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Copyri«r**t, 1885, 
by Harfbu Buothrrs 


December 24 , 1886 


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PREFACE. 




The idea of this tale was taken from “ The Mari- 
ners’ Chronicle,” compiled by a person named Scott 
early in the last century — a curious book of narra- 
tives of maritime adventures, with exceedingly quaint 
illustrations. Nothing has ever shown me more 
plainly that truth is stranger than fiction, for all 
that is most improbable here is the actual fact. 

The Comte de Bourke was really an Irish Jaco- 
bite, naturalized in France, and married to the daugh- 
ter of the Marquis de Yarennes, as well as in high 
favor with the Marshal Duke of Berwick. 

In 1719, just when the ambition of Elizabeth 
Farnese, the second wife of Philip Y. of Spain, had 
involved that country in a war with England, France, 
and Austria, the count was transferred from the 
Spanish embassy to that of Sweden, and sent for his 
wife and two elder children to join him at a Spanish 
port. 

This arrangement was so strange that I can only 
account for it by supposing that as this was the date 
of a feeble Spanish attempt on behalf of the Jaco- 
bites in Scotland, Comte de Bourke may not have 
ventured by the direct route. Or, it may not have 


PREFACE. 


been etiquette for him to re-enter France when ap- 
pointed ambassador. At any rate, the poor countess 
did take this route to the south, and I am inclined 
to think the narrative must be correct, as all the side- 
lights I have been able to gain perfectly agree with 
it, often in an unexpected manner. 

The suite and the baggage were just as related in 
the story — the only liberty I have taken being the 
bestowal of names. “ M. Arture ” was really of the 
party, but I have made him Scotch instead of Irish, 
and I have no knowledge that the lackey was not 
French. The imbecility of the abbe is merely a de- 
duction from his helplessness, but of course this may 
have been caused by illness. 

The meeting with M. de Yarennes at Avignon, 
Berwick’s offer of an escort, and the countess’s dread 
of the Pyrenees are all facts, as well as her embark- 
ation in the Genoese tartan bound for Barcelona, 
and its capture by the Algerine corsair commanded 
by a Dutch renegade, wdio treated her well, and to 
whom she gave her watch. 

Algerine history confirms what is said of his treat- 
ment. Louis XIY. had bombarded the pirate city, 
and compelled the dey to receive a consul and to 
liberate French prisoners and French property ; but 
the lady having been taken in an Italian ship, the 
Dutchman was afraid to set her ashore without first 
taking her to Algiers, lest he should fall under sus- 
picion. He would not venture on taking so many 
women on board his own vessel, being evidently 


PREFACE. 


iii 

afraid of his crew of more than two hundred Turks 
and Moors, but sent seven men on board the prize and 
took it in tow. 

Curiously enough, history mentions the very tem- 
pest which drove the tartan apart from her captor, 
for it also shattered the French transports and inter- 
fered with Berwick’s Spanish campaign. 

The circumstances of the wreck have been closely 
followed. “ M. Arture ” actually saved Mademoi- 
selle de Bourke, and placed her in the arms of the 
maitre d) hotels who had reached a rock, together with 
the abbe, the lackey, and one out of the four maids. 
The other three were all in the cabin with their mis- 
tress and her son, and shared their fate. 

The real “ Arture ” tried to swim to the shore, 
but never was seen again, so that his adventures with 
the little boy are wholly imaginary. But the little 
girl’s conduct is perfectly true. When in the stew- 
ard’s arms she declared that the savages might take 
her life, but never should make her deny her faith. 

The account of these captors was a great difficulty, 
till in the old “Universal History ” I found a descrip- 
tion of Algeria which tallied wonderfully with the 
narrative. It was taken from a survey of the coast 
made a few years later by English officials. 

The tribe inhabiting Mounts Araz and Couco, and 
bordering on Djigheli Bay, were really wild Arabs, 
claiming high descent, but very loose Mohammedans, 
and savage in their habits. Their name of Cabel- 
eyzes is said — with what truth I know not — to mean 


iv 


PREFACE. 


“revolted,” and they held themselves independent 
of the dej. They were in the habit of murdering 
or enslaving all shipwrecked travellers, except sub- 
jects of Algiers, whom they released with nothing 
but their lives. 

All this perfectly explains the sufferings of Made- 
moiselle de Bourke. The history of the plundering, 
the threats, the savage treatment of the corpses, the 
wild dogs, the councils of the tribe, the separation of 
the captives, and the child’s heroism, is all literally 
true — the expedient of Victorine’s defence alone be- 
ing an invention. It is also true that the little girl 
and the mattre d)Mtel wrote four letters, and sent 
them by different chances to Algiers, but only the 
last ever arrived, and it created a great sensation. 

M. Dessault is a real personage, and the kindness 
of the dey and of the Moors was exactly as related, also 
the expedient of sending the Marabout of Bugia to 
negotiate. 

Mr. Thomas Thompson was really the English con- 
sul at the time, but his share in the matter is imagi- 
nary, as it depends on Arthur’s adventures. 

The account of the Marabout system comes from 
the“ Universal History but the arrival, the negotia- 
tions, and the desire of the sheik to detain the young 
French lady for a wife to his son, are from the nar- 
rative. He really did claim to be an equal match for 
her, were she daughter of the King of France, since 
he was King of the Mountains. 

The welcome at Algiers and the Te Deum in the 


PREFACE. 


V 


consul’s chapel also are related in the book that 
serves me for authority. It adds that Mademoiselle 

de Bourke finally married a Marquis de B , and 

lived much respected in Provence, dying shortly be- 
fore the Be volution. 

I will only mention further that a rescued Abys- 
sinian slave named Fareek (happily not tongueless) 
was well known to me many years ago in the house- 
hold of the late Warden Barter of Winchester Col- 
lege. 

Since writing the above I have by the kindness of 
friends been enabled to discover Mr. Scott’s author- 
ity, namely, a book entitled “ Yoyage pour laBedemp- 
tion des Captifs aux Koyaumes d’ Alger et de Tunis, 
fait en 1720 par les P. P. Fran§ois Comelin, Phile- 
mon de la Motte, et Joseph Bernard, de I’Ordre de la 
Sainte Trinite, dit Mathurine.” This order was es- 
tablished by Jean Matha for the ransom and rescue 
of prisoners in the hands of the Moors. A transla- 
tion of the adventures of the Comtesse de Bourke 
and her daughter was published in the Catholic 
World, B^ew York, July, 1881. It exactly agrees 
with the narration in ‘‘ The Mariners’ Chronicle ” ex- 
cept that, in the true spirit of the eighteenth century, 
Mr. Scott thought fit to suppress that these ecclesias- 
tics were at Algiers at the time of the arrival of Ma- 
demoiselle de Bourke’s letter, that they interested 
themselves actively on her behalf, and that they wrote 
the narrative from the lips of the maUre d^hdtel (who 
indeed may clearly be traced throughout). It seems 


VI 


PREFACE. 


also that the gold cups were chalices, and that a com- 
plete set of altar equipments fell a prey to the Ca- 
bel^yzes, whose name the good fathers endeavor to 
connect with Cahale — with about as much reason as 
if we endeavored to derive that word from the min- 
istry of Charles 11. 

Had I known in time of the assistance of these 
benevolent brethren I would certainly have intro- 
duced them with all due honor, but, like the Abbe 
Yertot, I have to say, Mon histoire est ecrite^ and 
what is worse — printed. Moreover, they do not 
seem to have gone on the mission with the Marabout 
from Bugia, so that their presence really only ac- 
counts for the Te Deum with which the redeemed 
captives were welcomed. 

It does not seem quite certain whether M. Des- 
sault was consul or envoy ; I incline to think the lat- 
ter. The translation in the Catholic World speaks 
of Sir Arthur, but Mr. Scott’s “ M. Arture ” is much 
more vraisemhlahle. He probably had either a sur- 
name to be concealed or else unpronounceable to 
French lips. Scott must have had some further in- 
formation of the after- history of Mademoiselle de 
Bourke, since he mentions her marriage, which could 
hardly have taken place when P^re Comelin’s book 
was published in 1720. 


C. M. Yonge. 


A MODERN TELEMACHDS. 


CHAPTER I. 

COMPANIONS OF THE VOYAGE. 

“ Make mention thereto 
Touching my much-loved father’s safe return, 

If of his whereabouts I may best hear.” 

— Odyssey (Musgrave). 

“ Oh ! brother, I wish they had named you Tele* 
maque, and then it would have been all right!” 

“Why so, sister? Why should I be called by so 
ugly a name ? I like Ulysses much better; and it is 
also the name of my papa.” 

“ That is the very tiling. His name is Ulysses, 
and we are going to seek for him.” 

“ Oh ! I hope that cruel old Mentor is not coming 
to tumble us down over a great rock, like Telemaque. 
in the picture.” 

“ You mean Pere le Brun?” 

“ Yes; you know he always says he is our Mentor. 
And I wish he would change into a goddess with a 
helmet and a shield, with an ugly face, and go off in 
a cloud. Do you think he will, Estelle ?” 

“Do not be so silly, Ulick ; there are ho goddesses 
now.” 

“I heard M. de la Mede tell that pretty lady with 


8 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


the diamond butterfly that she was his goddess ; so 
there are !” 

‘‘ You do not understand, brother. That was only 
flattery and compliment. Goddesses were only in 
the Greek mythology, and were all over long ago !” 

“ But are we really going to see our papa?” 

“ Oh, yes, mamma told me so. He is made am- 
bassador to Sweden, you know.” 

“ Is that greater than envoy to Spain ?” 

“ Very, very much greater. They call mamma 
Madame PAmbassadrice ; and she is having three 
complete new dresses made. See, there are la bonne 
and Laurent talking. It is English, and if we go 
near with our cups and balls we shall hear all about 
it. Laurent always knows, because my uncle tells 
him.” 

‘‘ You must call him La Jeunesse now he is made 
mamma’s lackey. Is he not beautiful in his new 
livery ?” 

“ Be still now, brother ; I want to hear what they 
are saying.” 

This may sound somewhat sly, but French chil- 
dren, before Kousseau had made them the fashion, 
were kept in the background, and were reduced to 
picking up intelligence as best they could, without 
any sense of its being dishonorable to do so; and, 
indeed, it was more neglect than desire of conceal- 
mein that left them uninformed. 

This was in 1719, four years after the accession of 
Louis XY., a puny infant, to the French throne, and 
in the midst of the regency of the Duke of Orleans. 
The scene was a broad walk. in the Tuileries gardens, 
beneiUh a closely - clipped wall of greenery, along 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


9 


which were disposed alternately busts upon pedestals 
and stone vases of flowers, while beyond lay formal 
beds of flowers, the gravel walks between radiating 
from a fountain, at present quiescent, for it was only 
ten o’clock in the forenoon, and the gardens were 
chiefly frequented at that hour by children and their 
attendants, who, like Estelle and Ulysse de Bourke, 
were taking an early walk on their way home from 
mass. 

They were a miniature lady and gentleman of the 
period in costume, with the single exception that, in 
consideration of their being only nine and seven 
years old, their hair was free from powder. Estelle’s 
light, almost flaxen locks W’ere brushed back from 
her forehead, and tied behind with a rose-colored 
ribbon, but uncovered, except by a tiny lace cap on 
the crown of her head ; Ulick’s darker hair was care- 
fully arranged in great curls on his back and shoul- 
ders, as like a full-bottomed wig as nature would per- 
mit, and over it he wore a little cocked-hat edged 
with gold lace. He had a rich laced cravat, a double- 
breasted waistcoat of pale-blue satin, and breeches to 
match, a brown velvet coat with blue embroidery on 
the pockets, collar, and skirts, silk stockings to match, 
as well as the knot of the tiny scabbard of the sem- 
blance of a sword at his side, shoes with silver buc- 
kles, and altogether he might have been a full-grown 
comte or vicomte seen through a diminishing glass. 
His sister was in a full-hooped dress, with tight long 
waist, and sleeves reaching to her elbows, the under 
skirt a pale pink, the upper a deeper rose-color; but 
stiff as was the attire, she had managed to give it a 
slight general air of disarrangement, to get her cap a 


10 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


little on one side, a stray curl loose on her forehead, 
to tear a bit of the dangling lace on her arms, and to 
splash her robe with a puddle. He was in air, feat- 
ure, and complexion a perfect little dark Frenchman. 
The contour of her face, still more its rosy glow, 
were more in accordance with her surname, and so 
especially were the large, deep-blue eyes with the 
long dark lashes and pencilled brows. And there 
was a lively, restless air about her, full of intelligence, 
as she manoeuvred her brother towards a stone seat, 
guarded by a couple of cupids reining in sleepy- 
looking lions in stone, where, under the shade of a 
lime-tree, her little petticoated brother of two years 
old was asleep, cradled in the lap of a large, portly, 
handsome woman, in a dark dress, a white cap and 
apron, and dark crimson cloak, loosely put back, as it 
was an August day. Native costumes were then, as 
now, always worn by French nurses ; but this was not 
the garb of any province of the kingdom, and was as 
Irish as the brogue in which she was conversing with 
the tall, fine young man who stood at ease beside her. 
He was in a magnificent green-and-gold livery suit, 
his hair powdered, and fastened in a queue, the white- 
ness contrasting with the dark brows, and the eyes 
and complexion of that fine Irish type that it is the 
fashion to call Milesian. He looked proud of his 
dress, which was viewed in those days as eminently 
becoming, and did in fact display his well-made fig- 
ure and limbs to great advantage ; but he looked anx- 
iously about, and his first inquiry on coming on the 
scene in attendance upon the little boy had been — 
“The top of the morning to ye, mother! And 
where is Yictorine 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


11 


“ Arrah, and what would ye want with Yictorine 
demanded the honne. “ Is not the old mother enough 
for one while, to feast her eyes on her an’ Lanty Cal- 
laghan, now he has shed the marmiton^s slough, and 
come out in old Ireland’s colors, like a butter% from 
a palmer ? La Jeunesse, instead of Laurent here and 
Laurent there.” 

La Pierre and La Jeunesse were the stereotyped 
names of all pairs of lackeys in French noble houses, 
and the title was a mark of promotion ; but Lanty 
winced and said, ‘‘ Have done with that, mother. You 
know that never the pot nor the kettle has blacked 
ray fingers since Master Phelim went to the good 
fathers’ school with me to carry his books and insinse 
him with the learning. ’Tis all one, as his own body- 
servant that I have been, as was fitting for his own 
foster-brother, till now, when not one of the servants, 
barring rayself and Maitre Hubert, the steward, will 
follow Madame la Comtesse beyond the four walls of 
Paris. ‘Will you desert us too, Laurent?’ says the 
lady. ‘ And is it me you mane, madame V says I, ‘ Sor- 
rah a Callaghan ever deserted a Burke !’ ‘ Then,’ 

says she, ‘ if you will go with us to Sweden, you shall 
have two lackey’s suits, and a couple of louis dor to 
cross your pocket with by the year, forbye the fee 
and bounty of all the visitors to M. le Comte.’ ‘ Is 
it M. I’Abbe goes with madame V says I. ‘ And why 
not,’ says she. ‘Then,’ says I, ‘’tis myself that is 
mightily obliged to your ladyship, and am ready to 
put on her colors and do all in reason in her service, 
so as I am free to attend to Master Phelim, that is 
M. I’Abbe, whenever he needs me, that am in duty 
bound as his own foster-brother.’ ‘Ah, Laurent,’ 


12 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


says she, ‘ ’tis you that are the faithful domestic. 
We shall all stand in need of such good offices as we 
can do to one another, for we shall have a long and 
troublesome if not dangerous journey, both before 
and after we have met M. le Comte.’ ” 

Estelle here nodded her head with a certain satis- 
faction, while the nurse replied — 

‘‘And what other answer could the son of your 
father make — Heavens be his bed — that was shot 
through the head by the masther’s side in the weary 
wars in Spain ? and whom could ye be bound to serve 
barring Master Fhelim, that’s lain in the same cradle 
with yees — ” 

“Is not Yictorine here, mother?” still restlessly 
demanded Lanty. 

“Hever you heed Yictorine,” replied she. “ Sure 
she may have a little arrand of her own, and ye might 
have a word for the old mother that never parted 
with you before.” 

“ You not going, mother !” he exclaimed. 

“’Tis my heart that will go with yon and Masther 
Phelim, my jewel ; but Madame la Comtesse will 
have it that this weeny little darlint” — caressing the 
child in her lap — “ could never bear the cold of that 
bare and dissolute place in the north you are bound 
for, and old Madame la Marquise, her mother, would 
be mad entirely if all the children left her; but our 
own lady can’t quit the little one without leaving his 
own nurse Honor with him !” 

“ That’s news to me intirely, mother,” said Lanty ; 
“ bad luck to it !” 

Honor laughed that half-proud, half-sad laugh of 
mothers when their sons outgrow them. “ Fine talk- 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


13 


ing ! Much he cares for the old mother if he can see 
the young girl go with him.” 

For Lanty’s eyes had brightened at sight of a slight 
little figure, trim to the last degree, with a jaunty lit- 
tle cap on her dark hair, gay trimmings to the black 
apron, dainty shoes and stockings, that came tripping 
down the path. His tongue instantly changed to 
French from what he called English, as in pathetic, 
insinuating modulations he demanded how she could 
be making him weary his very heart out. 

“Who bade you?” she retorted. “ I never asked 
you to waste your time here !” 

“ And will ye not give me a glance of the eyes that 
have made a cinder of my poor heart, when I am go- 
ing away into the desolate North, among the bears and 
the savages and the heretics?” 

“ There will be plenty of eyes there to look at your 
fine green-and-gold, for the sake of the Paris cut ; 
though a great lumbering fellow like you does not 
know how to show it off!” 

“And if I bring back a heretic hru to break the 
heart of the mother, will it not be all the fault of the 
cruelty of Mademoiselle Yictorine?” 

Here Estelle, unable to withstand Lanty’s piteous 
intonations, broke in, “Never mind, Laurent, Yic- 
torine goes with us. She went to be measured for a 
new pair of shoes on purpose !” 

“ Ah ! I thought I should disembarrass myself of a 
great troublesome Irishman 1” 

“No!” retorted the boy, “you knew Laurent was 
going, for Maitre Hebert had just come in to say he 
must have a lackey’s suit !” 

“Yes,” said Estelle, “that was when you took 


14 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


me in your arms and kissed me, and said you 
would follow Madame la Comtesse to the end of 
the world.” 

The old nurse laughed heartily, but Yictorine cried 
out, “Does mademoiselle think I am going to follow 
naughty little girls who invent follies? It is still 
free to me to change my mind. Poor Simon Cla- 
qnette is gnawing his heart out, and he is to be left 
concierge /” 

The clock at the palace chimed eleven, Estelle took 
her brother’s hand, Honor rose with little Jacques 
in her arms, Yictorine paced beside her, and Lanty 
as La Jennesse followed, puflSng out his breast and 
wielding his cane, as they all went home to dejeuner. 

Twenty-nine years before the opening of this nar- 
rative, just after the battle of Boyne Water had 
ruined the hopes of the Stuarts in Ireland, Sir 
Ulick Burke had attended James II. in his flight 
from Waterford; and his wife had followed him, at- 
tended by her two faithful servants, Patrick Calla- 
ghan and his wife. Honor, carrying her mistress’s child 
on her bosom, and her own on her back. 

Sir Ulick, or Le Chevalier Bourke, as the French 
called him, had no scruple in taking service in the 
armies of Louis XIY. Callaghan followed him ever}’- 
where, while Honor remained a devoted attendant on 
her lady, doubly bound to her by exile and sorrow. 

Little Ulick Burke’s foster-sister died, perhaps be- 
cause she had always been made second to him 
through all the hardships and exposure of the jour- 
ney. Other babes of both lady and nurse had suc- 
cumbed to the mortality which beset the children of 
that generation, and the only survivors besides the 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


15 


eldest Burke and one daughter were the two young- 
est of each mother, and they had arrived so nearly at 
the same time that Honor Callaghan could again be 
foster-mother to Phelim Burke, a sickly child, reared 
with great difficulty. 

The family were becoming almost French. Sir 
Ulick was an intimate friend of one of the noblest 
men of the day, James Fitz-James, Marshal Duke of 
Berwick, who united military talent, almost equal to 
that of his uncle of Marlborough, to an unswerving 
honor and integrity very rare in those evil times. 
Under him, Sir Ulick fought in the campaigns that 
finally established the House of Bourbon upon the 
throne of Spain, and the younger Ulick or Ulysse, as 
his name had been classicalized and Frenchified, was 
making his first campaign as a mere boy at the time 
of the battle of Almanza, that solitary British defeat, 
for which our national consolation is that the French 
were commanded by an Englishman, the Duke of 
Berwick, and the English by a Frenchman, the Hu- 
guenot Kubigne, Earl of Galway. The first English 
charge was, however, fatal to the Chevalier Bourke, 
who fell mortally wounded, and in the endeavor to 
carry him ofl^ the field the faithful Callaghan like- 
wise fell. Sir Ulick lived long enough to be visited 
by the duke, and to commend his children to his 
friend’s protection. 

Berwick was held to be dry and stiff, but he was a 
faithful friend, and well redeemed his promise. The 
eldest son, young as he was, obtained as wife the 
daughter of the Marquis de Yarennes, and soon dis- 
tinguished himself both in war and policy, so as to 
receive the title of Comte de Bourke. 


16 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


The French Church was called on to provide for 
the other two children. The daughter, Alice, be- 
came a nun in one of the Parisian convents, with 
promises of promotion. The younger son, Phelim, 
was weakly in health, and of intellect feeble, if not 
deficient, and was almost dependent on the devoted 
care and tenderness of his foster-brother, Laurent 
Callaghan. Nobody was startled when Berwick’s 
interest procured for the dull boy of ten years old 
the Abbey of St. Eudoce in Champagne. To be 
sure the responsibilities were not great, for the 
abbey had been burned down a century and a half 
ago by the Huguenots, and there had never been 
any monks in it since, so the only effect was that 
little Phelim Burke went by the imposing title of 
Monsieur I’Abbe de St. Eudoce, and his family 
enjoyed as much of the revenues of the estates of 
the abbey as the intendant thought proper to 
transmit to them. He was, to a certain degree, 
ecclesiastically educated, having just memory enough 
to retain for recitation the tasks that Lanty helped 
him to learn, and he could copy the themes or 
translations made for him by his faithful companion. 
Neither boy had the least notion of unfairness or 
deception in this arrangement: it was only the 
natural service of the one to the other, and if it 
were perceived by the fathers of the seminary, 
whither Lanty daily conducted the young abbot, 
they winked at it. Nor, though the quick-witted 
Lanty thus acquired a considerable amount of 
learning, no idea occurred to him of availing 
himself of it for his own advantage. It sat outside 
him, as it were, for ‘‘Masther Phelim’s” use; and 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


17 


he no more’ thought of applying it to his own eleva- 
tion than he did of wearing the soutane he brushed 
for his young master. 

The abbe was now five-and-twenty, had received 
the tonsure, and had been admitted to minor orders, 
but there was no necessity for him to proceed any 
further unless higher promotion should be accorded 
to him in recompense of his brother’s services. He 
was a gentle, amiable being, not at all fit to take 
care of himself; and since the death of his mother 
he had been the charge of his brother and sister- 
in-law, or perhaps, more correctly speaking, of the 
Dowager Marquise de Yarennes, for all the branches 
of the family lived together in the Hotel de Yarennes 
at Paris, or its chateau in the countiw, and the fine 
old lady ruled over all, her son and son-in-law being 
often absent, as was the case at present. 

A fresh European war had been provoked by the 
ambition of the second wife of Philip Y. of Spain, 
the prince for whose cause Berwick had fought. 
This queen, Elizabeth Farnese, wanted rank and 
dominion for her own son ; moreover, Philip looked 
with longing eyes at his native kingdom of France, 
all claim to which he had resigned when Spain was 
bequeathed to him ; but now that only a sickly child, 
Louis XY., stood between him and the succession in 
right of blood, he felt his rights superior to those of 
the Duke of Orleans. Thus 'Spain was induced to 
become hostile to France, and to commence the war 
known as that of the Quadruple Alliance. 

While there was still hope of accommodation, the 
Comte de Bourke had been sent as a special envoy 
to Madrid, and there continued even after the war 
2 


18 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


had broken out, and the Duke of Berwick, resigning 
all the estates he had received from the gratitude of 
Philip Y., had led an army across the frontier. 

The count had, however, just been appointed am- 
bassador to Sweden, and was anxious to be joined hy 
his family on the way thither. 

The tidings had created great commotion. Ma- 
dame de Yarennes looked on Sweden as an Ultima 
Thule of frost and snow, but knew that a lady’s 
presence was essential to the display required of an 
ambassador. She strove, however, to have the chil- 
dren left with her; but her daughter declared that 
she could not part with Estelle, who was already a 
companion and friend, and that Ulysse must be with 
his father, who longed for his eldest son, so that only 
little Jacques, a delicate child, was to be left to con- 
sole his grandmother. 


9 


CHAPTEK II. 

A JACOBITE WAIF. 

“ Sae now he’s o’er the floods sae gray, 

And Lord Maxwell has ta’en his good-night.” 

— Lord Maxwell's Good-night. 

Madame la Comtesse de Boueke was by no means 
a helpless fine lady. She had several times accom- 
panied her husband on his expeditions, and had only 
not gone with him to Madrid because he did not 
expect to be long absent, and she sorely rued the 
separation. 

She was very busy in her own room, superintend- 
ing the packing, and assisting in it, where her own 
clever fingers were more effective than those of her 
maids. She was in her 7'6be de chambre.^ a dark-blue 
wrapper embroidered with white, and put on more 
neatly than was always the case with French ladies in 
deshabille. The hoop, long, stiff stays, rich brocade 
robe, and fabric of powdered hair were equally un- 
suitable to ease or exertion, and consequently were 
seldom assumed till late in the day, when the toilet 
was often made in public. 

So Madame de Bourke’s hair was simply rolled out 
of her way, and she appeared in her true colors, as a 
little brisk, bonny woman, with no actual beauty, but 
very expressive light-gray eyes, furnished with in- 
tensely long, black lashes, and a sweet, mobile, lively 
countenance. 


20 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


Estelle was trying to amuse little Jacques, and 
prevent him from trotting between the boxes, put- 
ting all sorts of undesirable goods into them ; and 
Ulysse had collected his toys, and was pleading ear- 
nestly that a headless wooden horse, and a kite twice 
as tall as himself, of Lanty’s manufacture, might go 
with them. 

He was told that another cerf-volant should be 
made for him at the journey’s end ; but was only 
partially consoled, and his mother was fain to com- 
pound for a box of woolly lambs. Estelle winked 
away a tear when her doll was rejected, a wooden, 
highly-painted lady, bedizened in brocade, and so 
dear to her soul that it was hard to be told that she 
was too old for such toys, and that the Swedes would 
be shocked to see the ambassador’s daughter embrac- 
ing a doll. She had, however, to preserve her char- 
acter of a reasonable child, and tried to derive consola- 
tion from the permission to bestow “ Mademoiselle ” 
upon the concierges little sick daughter, who would 
be sure to cherish her duly. 

“ But, oh, mamma, I pray you to let me take my 
book !” 

“ Assuredly, my child. Let us see! What? Tdle- 
maque? Hot ‘Prince Percinet and Princess Gra- 
cieuse V ” 

“ I am tired of them, mamma.” 

“Hor Madame d’Aulnoy’s Fairy Tales?” 

“ Oh, no, thank you, mamma ; I love nothing so 
well as Telemaque.” 

“ Thou art a droll child ?” said her mother. 

“ Ah, but we are going to be like T61emaque.” 

“ Heaven forefend ?” said the poor lady. 


A MODERN TELEaLA-CHUS. 


21 


^^Yes, dear mamma, I am glad you are going 
with us instead of staying at home to weave and 
unweave webs. If Penelope had been like you she 
would have gone !” 

“ Take care, is not Jacques acting Penelope said 
Madame de Bourke, unable to help smiling at her 
little daughter’s glib mythology, while going to the 
rescue of the embroidery silks, in which her young- 
est son was entangling himself. 

At that moment there was a knock at the door, 
and a message was brought that the Countess of 
Nithsdale begged the favor of a few minutes’ con- 
versation in private with madame. The Scottish 
title fared better on the lips of La Jeunesse than it 
would have done on those of his predecessor. There 
was considerable intimacy among all the Jacobite 
exiles in and about Paris ; and Winifred, Countess 
of Nithsdale, though living a very quiet and secluded 
life, was held in high estimation among all who rec- 
ollected the act of wifely heroism by which she had 
rescued her husband from the block. 

Madame de Bourke bade the maids carry off the 
little Jacques, and Ulysse followed ; but Estelle, who 
had often listened with rapt attention to the story 
of the escape, and longed to feast her eyes on the 
heroine, remained in her corner, usefully employed 
in disentangling the embroilment of silks, and with 
the illustrations to her beloved Telemaque as a re- 
source in case the conversation should be tedious. 
Children who have hundreds of picture-books to rus- 
tle through can little guess how their predecessors 
could once dream over one. 

Estelle made her low reverence unnoticed, and 


22 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


watched with eager eyes as the slight figure entered, 
clad in the stately costume that was regarded as prop- 
er respect to her hostess ; but the long, loose sack 
of blue silk was faded, t\\Q feuiUe-7norte velvet petti- 
coat frayed, the lace on the neck and sleeves washed 
and mended ; there were no jewels on the sleeves, 
though the long gloves fitted exquisitely, no gems in 
the buckles of the high-heeled shoes, and the only 
ornament in the carefully rolled and powdered hair, 
a white rose. Her face was thin and worn, with 
pleasant brown eyes. Estelle could not think her as 
beautiful as Calypso inconsolable for Ulysses, or 
Antiope receiving the boar’s head. “ I know she is 
better than either,” thought the little maid ; “ but I 
wish she was more like Minerva.” 

The countesses met with the lowest of courtesies, 
and apologies on the one side for intrusion, on the 
other for deshabille^ so they concluded with an em- 
brace really affectionate, though consideration for 
powder made it necessarily somewhat theatrical in 
appearance. 

These were the stiffest of days, just before for- 
mality had become unbearable, and the reaction of 
simplicity had set in; and Estelle had undone two 
desperate knots in the green and yellow silks before 
the preliminary compliments were over, and Lady 
Hithsdale arrived at the point. 

“Madame is about to rejoin Monsieur son Mari.^^ 

“ I am about to have that happiness.” 

“ That is the reason I have been bold enough to 
derange her.” 

“ Do not mention it. It is always a delight to see 
Madame la Comtesse.” 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


23 


“Ah ! what will madame say when she hears that 
it is to ask a great favor of her.” 

“Madame may reckon on me for whatever she 
would command.” 

“If you can grant it — oh! madame,” cried the 
Scottish countess, beginning to drop her formality 
in her eagerness, “we shall be forever beholden to 
you, and you will make a wounded heart to sing, be- 
sides perhaps saving a noble young spirit.” 

“Madame makes me impatient to hear what she 
would have of me,” said the French countess, be- 
coming a little on her guard, as the wife of a diplo- 
matist, recollecting, too, that peace with George T. 
might mean war with the Jacobites. 

“I know not whether a young kinsman of my 
lord’s has ever been presented to madame. His 
name is Arthur Maxwell Hope; but we call him 
usually by his Christian name.” 

“ A tall, dark, handsome youth, almost like a 
Spaniard, or a picture by Yandyke ? It seems to 
me that I have seen him with M. le Comte.” 
(Madame de Bourke could not venture on such a 
word as Hithsdale.) 

“Madame is right. The mother of the boy is a 
Maxwell, a cousin not far removed from my lord, 
but he could not hinder her from being given in 
marriage as second wife to Sir David Hope, already 
an old man. He was good to her, but wdien he died 
the sons by the first wife were harsh and unkind to 
her and to her son, of whom they had always been 
jealous. The eldest was a creature of my Lord Stair, 
and altogether a Whig; indeed, he now holds an 
office at the court of the Elector of Hanover, and 


S4 A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 

has been created one of his peers.” (The scorn with 
which the gentle Winifred uttered those words was 
worth seeing, and the other noble lady gave a little 
derisive laugh.) “These half-brothers declared that 
Lady Hope was nurturing the young Arthur in 
Toryism and disaffection, and they made it a plea for 
separating him from her, and sending him to an old 
minister who kept a school, and who was very severe 
and even cruel to the poor boy. But I am wearying 
madame.” 

“Oh, no, I listen with the deepest interest.” 

“Finally, when the king was expected in Scot- 
land, and men’s minds were full of anger and bit- 
terness, as well as hope and spirit, the boy — he was 
then only fourteen years of age — boasted of his 
grandfather’s having fought at Killiecrankie, and used 
language which the tutor pronounced treasonable, 
lie was punished and confined to his room ; but in 
the night he made his escape and joined the royal 
army. My husband was grieved to see him, told 
him he had no right to political opinions, and tried to 
send him home in time to make his peace before all 
was lost. Alas ! no. The little fellow did, indeed, 
pass out safely from Preston, but only to join my 
Lord Mar. He was among the gentlemen who em- 
barked at Banff ; and when my lord, by Heaven’s 
mercy, had escaped from the Tower of London, and 
we arrived at Paris, almost the first person we saw 
was little Arthur, whom we thought to have been safe 
at home. We have kept him with us, and I con- 
trived to let his mother know that he is living, for 
she had mourned him as among the slain.” 

“ Poor mother.” 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


25 


‘‘You may well pity her, raadame. She writes to 
me that if Arthur had returned at once from Pres- 
ton, as my lord advised, all would have been passed 
over as a schoolboy frolic; and, indeed, he has never 
been attainted ; but there is nothing that his eldest 
brother. Lord Burnside as they call him, dreads so 
much as that it should be known that^one of his 
family was engaged in the campaign, or that he is 
keeping such ill company as we are. Therefore, at 
her request, we have never called him Hope, but let 
him go by our name of Maxwell, which is his by 
baptism ; and now she tells me that if he could make 
his way to Scotland, not as if coming from Paris or 
Bar-le-Duc, but merely as if travelling on the Con- 
tinent, his brother would consent to his return.” 

“Would she be willing that he should live under 
the usurper?” 

“ Madame, to tell you the truth,” said Lady Niths- 
dale, “ the Lady Hope is not one to heed the ques- 
tion of usurpers, so long as her son is safe and a 
good lad. Nay, for my part, we all lived peaceably 
and happily enough under Queen Anne ; and, by all 
I hear, so they still do at home under the Elector of 
Hanover.” 

“ The regent has acknowledged him,” put in the 
French lady. 

“ Well,” said the poor exile, “ I know my lord felt 
that it was his duty to obey the summons of his law- 
ful sovereign, and that, as he said when he took up 
arms, one can only do one’s duty and take the con- 
sequences ; but oh ! when I look at the misery and 
desolation that has come of it, when I think of the 
wives not so happy as I am, when I see my dear lord 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


wearing out his life in banishment, and think of our 
dear home and our poor people, I am tempted to 
wonder whether it were indeed a duty, or whether 
there were any right to call on brave men without a 
more steadfast purpose not to abandon them !” 

“It would have been very different if the Duke 
of Berwick had led the way,” observed Madame de 
Bourke. “ Then my husband would have gone, but, 
being French subjects, honor stayed both him and 
the duke as long as the regent made no move.” The 
good lady, of course, thought that the marshal duke 
and her own count must secure victory; but Lady 
Nithsdale was intent on her own branch of the sub- 
ject, and did not pursue “ what might have been.” 

“After all,” she said, “poor Arthur, at fourteen, 
could have no true political convictions. He merely 
fled because he was harshly treated, heard his grand- 
father branded as a traitor, and had an enthusiasm 
for my husband, who had been kind to him. It was 
a mere boy’s escapade, and if he had returned home 
when my lord bade him it would only have been re- 
membered as such. He knows it now, and I frankly 
tell you, madarne, that what he has seen of our exiled 
court has not increased his ardor in the cause.” 

“Alas, no,” said Madame de Bourke. “If the 
Chevalier de St. George were other than he is, it 
would be easier to act in his behalf.” 

“ And you agree with me, madarne,” continued the 
visitor, “ that nothing can be worse or more hopeless 
for a youth than the life to which we are constrained 
here, with our whole shadow of hope in intrigue; 
and for our men, no occupation worthy of their sex. 
We women are not so ill off, with our children and 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


27 


domestic aJffairs ; but it breaks my heart to see brave 
gentlemen’s lives thus wasted. We have done our 
best for Arthur. He has studied with one of our 
good clergy, and my lord himself has taught him to 
fence ; but we cannot treat him any longer as a boy, 
and I know not what is to be his future, unless we 
can return him to his own country.” 

“ Our army,” suggested Madame de Bourke. 

Ah ! but he is Protestant.” 

‘‘A heretic I” exclaimed the lady, drawing herself 
up. “But — ” 

“ Oh, do not refuse me on that account. He is a 
good lad, and has lived enough among Catholics to 
keep his opinions in the background. But you un- 
derstand that it is another reason for wishing to con- 
vey him, if not to Scotland, to some land like Sweden 
or Prussia, where his faith would not be a bar to his 
promotion.” 

“ What is it you would have me do ?” said Madame 
de Bourke, more coldly. 

“If madame would permit him to be included in 
her passport, as about to join the ambassador’s suite, 
and thus conduct him to Sweden ; Lady Hope would 
find means to communicate with him from thence, 
the poor young man would be saved from a ruined 
career, and the heart of the widow and mother would 
bless you forever.” 

Madame de Bourke was touched, but she was a 
prudent woman, and paused to ask whether the youth 
had shown any tendency to run into temptation, from 
which Lady Hithsdale wished to remove him. 

“ Oh, no,” she answered ; “ he was a perfectly good, 
docile lad, though high-spirited, submissive to the 


28 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


earl, and a kind playfellow to her little girls ; it was 
his very excellence that made it so unfortunate that 
he should thus be stranded in early youth in conse- 
quence of one boyish folly.” 

The countess began to yield. She thought he 
might go as secretary to her lord, and she owned that 
if he was a brave young man he would be an addi- 
tion to her little escort, which only numbered two 
men besides her brother-in-law, the abbe, who was of 
almost as little account as his young nephew. “ But 
I should warn you, madaine,” added Madame de 
Bourke, “ that it may be a very dangerous journey. 
I own to you, though I would not tell my poor mother, 
that my heart fails me when I think of it, and were 
it not for the express commands of their father, I 
would not risk my poor children on it.” 

“ I do not think you will find Sweden otherwise than 
a cheerful and pleasant abode,” said Lady Nithsdale. 

“Ah! if we were only in Sweden, or with my 
husband, all would be well !” replied the other lady ; 
“ but we have to pass through the mountains, and the 
Catalans are always ill-affected to us French.” 

“ Nay ; but you are a party of women, and belong 
to an ambassador !” was the answer. 

“What do those robbers care for that? We are 
all the better prey for them ! I have heard histories 
of Spanish cruelty and lawlessness that would make 
you shudder! You cannot guess, at the dreadful 
presentiments that have haunted me ever since I 
had my husband’s letter.” 

“ There is danger everywhere, dear friend,” said 
Lady Nithsdale, kindly ; “ but God finds a way for 
us through all.” 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


‘‘ Ah ! you have experienced it/’ said Madame de 
Bourke. “Let us proceed to the affairs. I only 
thought I should tell you the truth.” 

Lady Nithsdale answered for the courage of her 
protege^ and it was further determined that he should 
be presented to her that evening by the earl, at the 
farewell reception which Madame de Yaren nes was 
to hold on her daughter’s behalf, when it could be 
determined in what capacity he should be named in 
the passport. 

Estelle, who had been listening with all her ears, 
and trying to find a character in F^nelon’s romance 
to be represented by Arthur Hope, now further heard 
it explained that the party were to go southward to 
meet her father at one of the Mediterranean ports, 
as the English government were so suspicious of 
Jacobites that he did not venture on taking the di- 
rect route by sea, but meant to travel through Ger- 
many. Madame de Bourke expected to meet her 
brother at Avignon, and to obtain his advice as to 
her further route. 

Estelle heard this with great satisfaction. “We 
shall go to the Mediterranean Sea and be in danger,” 
she said to herself, unfolding the map at the begin- 
ning of her Telemaque; “that is quite right! Per- 
haps we shall see Calypso’s Island.” 

She begged hard to be allowed to sit up that even- 
ing to see the hero of the escape from the Tower of 
London, as well as the travelling companion destined 
for her, and she prevailed, for mamma pronounced 
that she had been very sage and reasonable all day, 
and the grandmamma, who was so soon to part with 
her, could refuse her nothing. So she was full dressed. 


30 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


with hair curled, and permitted to stand by the tall 
high-backed chair where the old lady sat to receive 
her visitors. 

The Marquise de Yarennes was a small, withered 
woman, with keen eyes, and a sort of sparkle of man- 
ner, and power of setting people at ease, that made 
her the more charming the older she grew. An ex- 
perienced eye could detect that she retained the cos- 
tume of the prime of Louis XIY., when head-dresses 
were less high than that which her daughter was 
obliged to wear. For the last two mortal hours of 
that busy day had poor Madame de Bourke been 
compelled to sit under the hands of the hairdresser, 
who was building up, with paste and powder and the 
like, an original conception of his, namely, a Northern 
landscape, with snow-laden trees, drifts of snow, dia- 
mond icicles, and even a cottage beside an ice-bound 
stream. She could ill spare the time, and longed to 
be excused ; but the artist had begged so hard to be 
allowed to carry out his brilliant and unique idea, 
this last time of attending on Madame I’Ambassadrice, 
that there was no resisting him, and perhaps her 
strange forebodings made her less willing to inflict 
a disappointment on the poor man. It would have 
been strange to contrast the fabric of vanity building 
up outside her head with the melancholy bodings 
within it, as she sat motionless under the hairdresser’s 
fingers; but at the end she roused herself to smile 
gratefully, and give the admiration that was felt to 
be due to the monstrosity that crowned her. For- 
bearance and Christian patience may be exercised 
even on a toilet d la Louis XY. Long practice en- 
abled her to walk about, seat herself, rise and courtesy 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


31 


without detriment to the edifice, or bestowing the 
powder either on her neighbors or on the richly- 
flowered white brocade she wore ; while she received 
the compliments, one after another, of ladies in even 
more gorgeous array, and gentlemen in velvet coats, 
adorned with gold lace, cravats of exquisite fabric, 
and diamond shoe-buckles. 

Phelim Burke, otherwise PAbbe de St. Eudoce, 
stood near her. He was a thin, yellow, and freckled 
youth, with sandy hair and typical Irish features, but 
without their drollery, and his face was what might 
have been expected in a half-starved, half-clad gos- 
soon in a cabin, rather than surmounting a silken 
soutane in a Parisian salon * but he had a pleasant 
smile when kindly addressed by his friends. 

Presently Lady Nithsdale drew near, accompanied 
by a tall, grave gentleman, and bringing with them a 
still taller youth, with the stiffest of backs and the 
longest of legs, who, when presented, made a bow 
apparently from the end of his spine, like Estelle’s 
lamented Dutch-jointed doll when made to sit down. 
Moreover, he was more shabbily dressed than any 
other gentleman present, with a general outgrown 
look about his coat, and darns in his silk stockings; 
and though they were made by the hand of a countess, 
that did not add to their elegance. And as he stood 
as stiff as a ramrod or as a sentinel, Estelle’s good- 
breeding was all called into play, and her mother’s 
heart quailed as she said to herself, “A great raw 
Scot ! What can be done with him ?” 

Lord Nithsdale spoke for him, thinking he had 
better go as secretary, and showing some handwriting 
of good quality. “Did he know any languages?” 


83 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


“French, English, Latin, and some Greek. And, 
rnadame,” added Lord Nithsdale, “not only is his 
French much better than mine, as you would hear if 
the boy durst open his mouth, but our broad Scotch 
is so like Swedish that he will almost be an inter- 
preter there.” 

However hopeless Madame de Bourke felt, she 
smiled and professed herself rejoiced to hear it, and 
it was further decided that Arthur Maxwell Hope, 
aged eighteen, Scot by birth, should be mentioned 
among those of the ambassador’s household for whom 
she demanded passports. Her position rendered this 
no matter of difficulty, and it was wiser to give the 
full truth to the home authorities ; but as it was de- 
sirable that it should not be reported to the English 
government that Lord Burnside’s brother was in the 
suite of the Jacobite Comte de Bourke, he was only 
to be known to the public by his first name, which 
was not much harder to French lips than Maxwell or 
Hope. 

“Tall and black and awkward,” said Estelle, de- 
scribing him to her brother. “I shall not like him 
— I shall call him Phalante instead of Arthur.” 

“ Arthur,” said Ulysse ; “ King Arthur was turned 
into a crow !” 

“ Well, this Arthur is like a crow — a great, black, 
skinny crow, with torn feathers.” 


CHAPTER HI. 


ON THE RHONE. 

“Fairer scenes the opening eye 
Of the day can scarce descry, 

Fairer sight he looks not on 
Than the pleasant banks of Rhone.” 

— Archbishop Trench. 

Long legs may be in the abstract an advantage, but 
scarcely so in what was called in France une grande 
Berl'me. This was the favorite travelling-carriage 
of the eighteenth century, and consisted of a close 
carriage or coach proper, with arrangements on the 
top for luggage, and behind it another seat open, but 
provided with a large leathern hood, and in front an- 
other place for the coachman and his companions. 
Each seat was wide enougli to hold three persons, and 
thus within sat Madame de Bourke, her brother- 
in-law, the two children, Arthur Hope, and Made- 
moiselle Julienne, an elderly woman of the artisan 
class, femme de chamhre to the countess. Yicto- 
rine, who was attendant on the children, would trav- 
el under the hood with two more maids; and the 
front seat would be occupied by the coachman, Lau- 
rence Callaghan — otherwise La Jeunesse — and Mai- 
tre Hebert, the onaitre d’hdtel. Fain would Arthur 
have shared their elevation, so far as ease and com- 
fort of mind and body went, and the countess’s 
wishes may have gone the same way; but be- 
3 


34 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


sides that it would have been an insult to class him 
with the servants, the horses of the home establish- 
ment, driven by their owm coachman, took the party 
the first stage out of Paris; and though afterwards 
the post-horses or mules, six in number, would be 
ridden by their own postilions, there was such an 
amount of luggage as to leave little or no space for a 
third person outside. 

It had been a perfect sight to see the carriage 
packed ; when Arthur, convoyed by Lord Nithsdale, 
arrived in the courtyard of the Hotel de Yarennes. 
Madame de Bourke was taking with her all the 
paraphernalia of an ambassador — a service of plate, 
in a huge chest stowed under the seat, a portrait of 
Philip Y., in a gold frame set with diamonds, being 
included among her jewelry — and Lord Nithsdale, 
standing by, could not but dryly remark, “Yonder is 
more than we brought with us, Arthur.” 

The two walked up and down the court together, 
unwilling to intrude on the parting which, as they 
well knew, would be made in floods of tears. Sad 
enough indeed it was, for Madame de Yarennes was 
advanced in ^^ears, and her daughter had not only to 
part with her, but with the baby Jacques, for an un- 
known space of time; but the self-command and re- 
straint of grief for the sake of each other was abso- 
lutely unknown. It was a point of honor and senti- 
ment to weep as much as possible, and it would have 
been regarded as frigid and unnatural not to go on 
crying too much to eat or speak for a whole day be- 
forehand, and at least two afterwards. 

So when the travellers descended the steps to take 
their seats, each face was enveloped in a handker 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


35 


chief, and there were passionate embraces, literal 
pressings to the breast, and violent sobs, as each victim, 
one after the other, ascended the carriage steps and 
fell back on the seat ; while in the background Honor 
Callaghan was uttering Irish wails over the abbe 
and Laurence, and the lamentable sound set the little 
lap-dog and the big watch-dog howling in chorus. 
Arthur Hope, probably as miserable as any of them 
in parting with his friend and hero, was only stand- 
ing like a stake, and an embarrassed stake (if that be 
possible), and Lord Hithsdale, though anxious for 
him,- heartily pitying all, was nevertheless haunted 
by a queer recollection of Lance and his dog, and 
thinking that French dogs were not devoid of sym- 
pathy, and that the part of Crab was left for Arthur. 

■ However, the last embrace was given, and the 
ladies were all packed in, while the abbe, with his 
breast heaving with sobs, his big hat in one hand 
and a huge silk pocket-handkerchief in the other, 
did not forget his manners, but waved to Arthur to 
ascend the steps first. ‘‘ Secretary, not guest. You 
must remember that another time,” said Lord Niths- 
dale. “ God bless you, my dear lad, and bring you 
safe back to bonny Scotland, a true and leal heart.” 

Arthur wrung his friend’s hand once more, and 
disappeared into the vehicle; Hurse Honor made 
one more rush, and uttered another Ohone ” over 
Abbe Phelim, who followed into the carriage ; the 
door was shut ; there was a last wail over “ Lanty, 
the sunbeam of me heart,” as he climbed to the box 
seat; the harness jingled; coachman and postilions 
cracked their whips, the impatient horses dashed out 
at the ;porte cochere ; and Arthur, after endeavoring 


36 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


to dispose of his legs, looked about him and saw, op- 
posite to him, Madame de Bourke lying back in the ^ 
corner in a transport of grief, one arm round her 
daughter, and her little son lying across her lap, both 
sobbing and crying ; and on one side of him the abbd, 
sunk in his corner, his yellow silk handkerchief over 
his face; on the other, Mademoiselle Julienne, who 
was crying too, but with more moderation, perhaps 
more out of propriety or from infection than from 
actual grief : at any rate she had more of her senses 
about her than any one else, and managed to dispose 
of the various loose articles that had been thrown 
after the travellers, in pockets and under cushions. 
Arthur would have assisted, but only succeeded in 
treading on various toes and eliciting some small 
shrieks, which disconcerted him all the more, and 
made Mademoiselle Julienne look daggers at him, as 
she relieved her lady of little Ulysse, lifting him to 
her own knee, where, as he was absolutely exhausted 
with crying, he fell asleep. 

Arthur hoped the others would do the same, and 
perhaps there was more dozing than they would have 
confessed ; but whenever there was a movement, and 
some familiar object in the streets of Paris struck the 
eye of madame, the abbe, or Estelle, there was a little 
cry, and they went off on a fresh score. 

“Poor, wretched, weak creatures!” he said to him- 
self, as he thought over the traditions of Scottish 
heroic women on whose heroism he had gloated. 
And yet he was wrong : Madame de Bourke was 
capable of as much resolute self-devotion as any of 
the ladies on the other side of the channel, but tears 
were a tribute required by the times. So she gave 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


37 


way to them — just as no doubt tlie women of former 
days saw nothing absurd in bottling them. 

Arthur’s position among all these weeping figures 
was extremely awkward, all the more so that he car- 
ried his sword upright between his legs, not daring 
to disturb the lachrymose company enough to dis- 
pose of it in the sword-case appropriated to weapons. 
He longed to take out the little pocket Yirgil, which 
Lord Nithsdale had given him, so as to have some 
occupation for his eyes, but he durst not, lest he 
should be thought rude, till, at a halt at a cabaret to 
water the horses, the striking of a clock reminded the 
abbe that it was the time for reading the Hours, and 
when the breviary was taken out, Arthur thought his 
book might follow it. 

By and by there was a halt at Corbeil, where was 
the nunnery of Alice Bourke, of whom her brother 
and sister-in-law were to take leave. They, with the 
children, were set down there, while Arthur went on 
with the carriage and servants to the inn to dine. 

It was the first visit of Ulysse to the convent, and 
he was much amazed at peeping at his aunt’s hooded 
face through a grating. However, the family were 
admitted to dine in the refectory ; but poor Madame 
de Bourke was fit for nothing but to lie on a bed, at- 
tended affectionately by her sister-in-law, Soeur Ste. 
Madeleine. 

“ O sister, sister,” was her cry, I must say it to 
you — I would not to my poor mother — that I have 
the most horrible presentiments I shall never see her 
again, nor my poor child. No, nor my husband ; I 
knew it when he took leave of me for that terrible 
Spain.” 


3» A MODERN TELEMACnt^TS. 

‘ Yet you see he is safe, and you will be with him, 
sister,” returned the nun. 

‘‘ Ah ! that I knew I should ! But think of those 
fearful Pyrenees, and the bandits that infest them — 
and all the valuables we carry with us!” 

“Surely I heard that Marshal Berwick had offered 
you an escort.” 

“That will only attract the attention of the brig- 
ands and bring them in greater force. O sister, sis- 
ter, my heart sinks at the thought of my poor children 
in the hands of those savages ! I dream of them every 
night.” 

“ The suite of an ambassador is sacred.” 

“ Ah ! but what do they care for that, the robbers? 
I know destruction lies that way !” 

“Nay, sister, this is not like yon. You always 
were brave and trusted Heaven, when you had to fol- 
low Ulick.” 

“ Alas ! never had I this sinking of heart, which 
tells me I shall be torn from my poor children and 
never rejoin him.” 

Sister Ste. Madeleine caressed and prayed with the 
poor lad}^, and did her utmost to reassure and com- 
fort her, promising a neuvaine for her safe journey 
anff meeting with her husband. 

“For the children,” said the -poor countess. “I 
know I never shall see him more.” 

However, the cheerfulness of the bright Irish- 
woman had done her some good, and she was better 
by the time she rose to pursue her journey. Estelle 
and Ulysse had been much petted by the nuns, and 
when all met again, to the great relief of Arthur, he 
found continuous weeping was not de rigueur. When 


A MODERN TELEMACHtrS. 


3b 


they got in again he was able to get rid of his sword, 
and only trod on two pairs of toes and got his legs 
twice tumbled over. 

Moreover, Madame de Bourke had recovered the 
faculty of making pretty speeches, and when the 
weapon was put into the sword-case she observed, 
with a sad little smile, “Ah, monsieur! we look to 
you as our defender!” 

“And me, too!” cried little Ulysse, making a 
violent demonstration with his tiny blade, and so 
nearly poking out his uncle’s eye that the article was 
relegated to the same hiding-place as “Monsieur 
Arture’s,” and the boy was assured that this was a 
proof of his manliness. 

He had quite recovered his spirits, and as his 
mother and sister were still exhausted with weeping 
he was not easy to manage, till Arthur took heart of 
grace, and, offering him a perch on his knee, let him 
look out at the window, explaining the objects on 
the way, which were all quite new' to the little Pa- 
risian boy. Fortunately he spoke French well, with 
scarcely any foreign accent, and his answ^ers to the 
little fellow’s eager questions, interspersed with ob- 
servations on “What they do in my country,” not 
only kept Ulysse occupied, but gained Estelle’s at- 
tention, though she was too weary and languid, and 
perhaps, child as she was, too much bound by the re- 
quirements of sympathy, to manifest her interest, 
otherwise than by moving near enough to listen. 

That evening the party reached the banks of one 
of the canals which connected the rivers of France, 
and which was to convey them to the Loire and 
thence to the Khone, in a huge, flat-bottomed barge. 


40 


A modern TELEMACHTjo. 


called a cache Weau^ a sort of ark, with cabins, where 
travellers could be fairly comfortable, space where 
the berlin could be stowed away in the rear, and a 
deck with an awning where the passengers could dis- 
port themselves. From the days of Sully to those 
of the Revolution, this was by far the most con- 
venient and secure mode of transport, especially in 
the south of France. It was very convenient to the 
Bourke party, who were soon established on the 
deck. The lady’s dress was better adapted to travel- 
ling than the full costume of Paris. It was what 
she called en Amazone — namely, a cloth riding-habit 
faced with blue, with a short skirt, with open coat 
and waistcoat, like a man’s, hair unpowdered and tied 
behind, and a large, shady, feathered hat. Estelle 
wore a miniature of the same, and rejoiced in her 
freedom from the whalebone stiffness of her Paris 
life, skipping about the deck with her brother, like 
fairies, Lanty said, or, as she preferred to make it, 
“ like a nymph.” 

The water coach moved only by day, and was 
already arrived before the land one brought the 
weary party to the meeting-place — a picturesque 
water-side inn with a high roof, and a trellised pas- 
sage down to the landing-place, covered by a vine 
hung with clusters of ripe grapes. 

Here the travellers supped on omelets and mn 
ordinaire^ and went off to bed — Madame and her 
children in one bed, with the maids on the floor, and 
in another room the abbd and secretary, each in a 
grdbat, the two men-servants in like manner, on the 
floor. Such was the privacy of the eighteenth cen- 
tury, and Arthur, used to waiting on himself, looked 


A MODERN TELEMACHDS. 

on with wonder to see the abbe like a baby in the 
hands of his faithful foster-brother, who talked away 
in a queer mixture of Irish-English and French all 
the time until they knelt down and said their prayers 
together in Latin, to which Arthur diligently closed 
his Protestant ears. 

Early the next morning tlie family embarked, the 
carriage having been already put on board ; and the 
journey became very agreeable as they glided slowly, 
almost dreamily along, borne chiefly by the current, 
although a couple of horses towed the barge by a 
rope on the bank, in case of need, in places where 
the water was more sluggish, but nothing more was 
wanting in the descent towards the Mediterranean. 

The accommodation was not of a high order, but 
whenever there was a halt near a good inn, Madame 
de Bourke and the children landed for the night. 
And in the fine days of early autumn the deck 
was delightful, and to dine there on the provisions 
brought on board was a perpetual feast to Estelle 
and IJlysse. 

The weather was beautiful, and there was a con- 
stant panorama of fair sights and scenes. Harvest 
first, a perfectly new spectacle to the children, and 
then, as they went farther south, the vintage. The 
beauty was great as they glided along tlie pleasant 
banks of Rhone. 

Tiers of vines on the hillsides were mostly cut 
and trimmed like currant-bushes, and disappointed 
Arthur, who had expected festoons on trellises. 
Blit this was the special time for beauty. The 
whole population, in picturesque costumes, were 
filling huge baskets with the clusters, and snatches 


43 


A MODERN TKCEMAUrruTs. 


of their merry songs came pealing down to the coche 
d^eaxi^ as it quietly crept along. Towards evening 
groups 'were seen with piled baskets on their heads, 
or borne between them, youths and maidens crowned 
with vines, half-naked children dancing like little 
Bacchanalians, which awoke classical recollections in 
Arthur and delighted the children. 

Poor Madame de Bourke was still much depressed, 
and would sit dreaming half the day, except when 
roused by some need of her children, some question, 
or some appeal for her admiration. Otherwise, the 
lovely heights, surmounted with tall towers, extin- 
guisher-capped, of castle, convent, or church, the clear 
reaches of river, the beautiful turns, the little villages 
and towns gleaming white among the trees, seemed 
to pass unseen before her eyes, and she might be seen 
to shudder when the children pressed her to say how 
many days it would be before they saw their father. 

An observer with a mind at ease might have been 
much entertained with the airs and graces that the 
two maids. Rosette and Babette, lavislied upon Lau- 
rence, their only squire; for Maitre Hebert was far 
too distant and elderly a person for their little coquet- 
ries. Rosette dealt in little terrors, and, if he was at 
hand, durst not step across a plank without his hand, 
was sure she heard wolves howling in the woods, and 
that every peasant was ce harbare;’’’’ while Babette, 
who in conjunction with Maitre Hebert acted cook 
in case of need, plied him with dainty morsels, which 
he was only too apt to bestow’ on the beggars, or the 
lean and hungry lad who attended on the horses. 
Yictorine, on the other hand, by far the prettiest and 
most sprightly of the three, affected the most supreme 


A MODERN TELEMACiro^5. 


€3 


indifference to him and his attentions, and hardly 
deigned to give him a civil word, or to accept the 
cornflowers and late roses he brought her from time 
to time. ‘‘ Mere weeds,” she said. And the grapes 
and Queen Claude plums he brought her were always 
sour. Yet a something deep blue might often be 
seen peeping above her trim little apron. 

Not that Lanty had much time to disport himself 
in this fashion, for the abbe was his care, and was 
perfectly happy with a rod of his arranging, with 
which to fish over the side. Little Ulysse was of 
course flred with the same emulation, and dangled 
his line for an hour together. Estelle would have 
liked to do the same, but her mother and Mademoi- 
selle Julienne considered the sport not convenable for 
a demoiselle. Arthur was once or twice induced to 
try the abbe’s rod, but he found it as mere a toy as 
that of the boy ; and the mere action of throwing it 
made his heart so sick with the contrast with the 
“paidling in the burns” of his childhood, that he 
had no inclination to continue the attempt, either in 
the slow canal or the broadening river. 

He was still very shy with the countess, who was 
not in spirits to set him at ease ; and the abbe puzzled 
him, as is often the case when inexperienced stran- 
gers encounter unacknowledged deficiency. The per- 
petual coaxing chatter, and undisguised familiarity 
of La Jeunesse with the young ecclesiastic did not 
seem to the somewhat haughty cast of his young 
Scotch mind quite becoming, and he held aloof; but 
with the two children he was quite at ease, and was 
in truth their great resource. 

He made Ulysse’s fishing-rod, baited it, and held 


44 


A MODERN TELEMACHuts. 


the boy when he used it— nay, he once even captured 
a tiny fish with it, to the ecstatic pity of both chil- 
di'en. He played quiet games with them, and told 
them stories — conversed on Telemaqne with Estelle, 
or read to her from his one book, which was “ Robin- 
son Crusoe” — a little black copy in pale print, with 
the margins almost thumbed away, which he had 
cari ied in his pocket when he ran away from school, 
and nearly knew by heart. 

Estelle was deeply interested in it, and varied in 
opinion whether she should prefer Calypso’s island 
or Crusoe’s, which she took for as much matter of 
fact as did, a century later, Madame Talleyrand, 
when, out of civility to Mr. Robinson, she inquired 
after “ ee hon VendrediP 

She inclined to think she should prefer Friday to 
the nymphs. 

“ A whole quantity of troublesome wmmenfolk to 
fash one,” said Arthur, who had not arrived at the 
age of gallantry. 

“ You would never stay there !” said Estelle ; “ you 
would push us over the rock like Mentor. I think 
you are our Mentor, for I am sure you tell us a great 
deal, and you don’t scold.” 

“Mentor was a cross old man,” said Ulysse. 

To which Estelle replied that he was a goddess; 
and Artluir very decidedly disclaimed either char- 
acter, especially the pushing over rocks. And thus 
they glided on, spending a night in the great, busy, 
bewildering city of Lyons, already the centre of silk 
indnstr}', but more interesting to the travellers as 
the shrine of the martyi'doms. All went to pray at 
the cathedral except Arthur. The time was not 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


45 


come for heeding church architecture or primitive 
history ; and he only wandered about the narrow, 
crooked streets, gazing at tlie toy piles of market 
produce, and looking at the stalls of merchandise, 
but as one unable to purchase. His mother had 
indeed contrived to send him twenty guineas, but he 
knew that he must husband them well in case of 
emergencies, and Lady Hithsdale had sewn them all 
up, except one, in a belt which he wore under his 
clothes. 

He had arrived at the front of the cathedral when 
the party came out. Madame de Bourke had been 
w^eeping, but looked more peaceful than he had yet 
seen her, and Estelle was much excited. She had 
bought a little book, which she insisted on her Men- 
tor’s reading with her, though his Protestant feel- 
ings recoiled. 

“Ah !” said Estelle, “ but you are not Christian.” 

“ Yes, truly, mademoiselle.” 

“ And these died for the Christian faith. Do you 
know mamma said it comforted her to pray there ; 
for she was sure that whatever happened, the good 
God can make us strong, as he made the young girl 
who sat in the red-hot chair. We saw her picture, 
and it was dreadful. Do read about her. Monsieur 
Arture.” 

They read, and Arthur had candor enough to per- 
ceive that this was the simple primitive narrative of 
the death of martyrs struggling for Christian truth, 
long ere the days of superstition and division. Es- 
telle’s face lighted with enthusiasm. 

“Is it not noble to be a martyr?” she asked. 

“Ob!” cried IJlysse; “to sit in a red-hot chair? 


46 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


It would be worse than to be thrown off a rock ! 
But there are no martyrs in these days, sister?” he 
added, pressing up to Arthur as if for protection. 

“ There are those who die for the right,” said Ar- 
thur, thinking of Lord Derwentwater, who in Jacobite 
eyes was a martyr. 

And the good God makes them strong,” said Es- 
telle, in a low voice. “ Mamma told me no one could 
tell how soon we might be tried, and that I was to 
pray that he would make us as brave as St. Blandina 1 
What do you think could harm us, monsieur, when 
we are going to my dear papa ?” 

It was Lanty who answered, from behind the abbe, 
on whose angling endeavors he was attending. “ Ar- 
rah, then, nothing at all, mademoiselle. Nothing in 
the four corners of the world shall hurt one curl of 
your blessed little head, while Lanty Callaghan is to 
the fore.” 

“ Ah ! but you are not God, Lanty,” said Estelle, 
gravely ; “ you cannot keep things from happening.” 

“ The powers forbid that I should spake such blas- 
phemy !” said Lanty, taking off his hat. “ ’Twas not 
that I meant, but only that poor Lanty would die ten 
thousand deaths — worse than them as was thrown to 
the beasts — before one of them should harm the tip 
of that little finger of yours I” 

Perhaps the same vow was in Arthur’s heart, 
though not spoken in such strong terms. 

Thus they drifted on till the old city of Avignon 
rose on the eyes of the travellers, a dark pile of build- 
ings where the massive houses, built round courts, 
with few external windows, recalled that these had 
once been the palaces of cardinals accustomed to the 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


47 


Italian city feuds, which made every house become a 
fortress. 

On the wharf stood a gentleman in a resplendent 
uniform of blue and gold, whom the children hailed, 
with cries of joy and outstretched arms, as their uncle. 
The Marquis de Yaren nes was soon on board, em- 
bracing his sister and her children, and conducting 
them to one of the great palaces, where he had rooms, 
being then in garrison. Arthur followed, at a sign 
from the lady, who presented him to her brother as 
“Monsieur Arture” — a young Scottish gentleman 
who will do my husband the favor of acting as his 
secretary. 

She used the word gentilhomme,, which .conveyed 
the sense of nobility of blood, and the marquis ac- 
knowledged the introduction with one of those grace- 
ful bows that Arthur hated, because they made him 
doubly feel the stiffness of his own limitation. He 
was glad to linger with Lanty, who was looking in 
wonder at the grim buildings. 

“And did the holy father live here?” said he. 
“ Faith, and ’twas a quare taste he must have had ; 
I wonder now if there would be vartue in a bit of a 
stone from his palace. It would mightily please my 
old mother if there were.” 

“ I thought it was the wrong popes that lived here,” 
suggested Arthur. 

Lanty looked at him a moment as if in doubt 
whether to accept a heretic suggestion, but the edu- 
cation received through the abbe came to mind, and 
he exclaimed — 

“ Maybe you are in the right of it, sir ; and Fd 
best let the stones alone till I can tell which is the 


48 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


true and which is the false. By the same token, lit- 
tle is the difference it would make to her, unless she 
knew it ; and if she did, she’d as soon I brought her 
a hair of the old dragon’s bristles.” 

Lanty found another day or two’s journey bring 
him very nearly in contact with the old dragon, for 
at Tarascon was the cave in which St. Martha was 
said to have detnolished the great dragon of Provence 
with the sign of the cross. Madame de Bourke and 
her children made a devout pilgrimage thereto; but 
when Arthur found that it was the actual Martha of 
Bethany to whom the legend was appended, he grew 
indignant, and w’ould not accompany the party. “ It 
was a very different thing from the martyrs of Lyons 
and Yienne ! Their history was credible, but this — ” 

“Speak not so loud, my friend,” said M. de Va- 
rennes. “ Their shrines are equally good to console 
women and children.” 

Arthur did not quite understand the tone, nor 
know whether to be gratified at being treated as a 
man, or to be shocked at the marquis’s defection 
from his own faith. 

The marquis, who was able to accompany his sister 
as far as Montpelier, was amused at her two followers, 
Scotch and Irish, both fine young men — almost too 
fine, he averred. 

“ You will have to keep a careful watch on them 
when you enter Germany, sister,” he said, “ or the 
King of Prussia will certainly kidnap them for his 
tall regiment of grenadiers.” 

“ Oh, brother, do not speak of any more dangers : I 
see quite enough before me ere I can even rejoin my 
dear husband.” 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


49 


A very serious council was held between the brother 
and sister. The French army under Marshal Berwick 
had marched across on the south side on the Pyre- 
nees, and was probably by this time in the county of 
Kousillon, intending to besiege Kosas. Once with 
them all would be well, but between lay the moun- 
tain roads, and the very quarter of Spain that had 
been most unwilling to accept French rule. 

The marquis had been authorized to place an es- 
cort at his sister’s service, but though the numbers 
miglit guard her against mere mountain banditti, 
they would not be sufficient to protect her from hos- 
tile troops, such as might only too possibly be on the 
way to encounter Berwick. The expense and diffi- 
culty of the journey on the mountain roads would 
likewise be great, and it seemed advisable to avoid 
these dangers by going by sea. Madame de Bourke 
eagerly acceded to this plan, her terror of the wild 
Pyrenean passes and wilder inhabitants had always 
been such that she was glad to catch at any means 
of avoiding them, and she had made more than one 
voyage before. 

Estelle was gratified to find they were to go by 
sea, since Telemachus did so in a Phoenician ship, 
and, in that odd, dreamy way in which children blend 
fiction and reality, wondered if they should come on 
Calypso’s island ; and Arthur, who had read the 
Odyssey, delighted her and terrified Ulysse with the 
cave of Polyphemus. M. de Yarennes could only go 
with his sister as far as Montpelier. Then he took 
leave of her, and the party proceeded along the shores 
of the lagoons in the carriage to the seaport of Cette, 
one of the old Greek towns of the Gulf of Lyons, 
4 


50 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


and with a fine harbor full of ships. Maltre Hubert 
was sent to take a passage on board of one, while his 
lady and her party repaired to an inn, and waited all 
the afternoon before he returned with tidings that 
lie could find no French vessel about to sail for Spain, 
but that there was a Genoese tartan, bound for Bar- 
celona, on which Madame la Comtesse could secure a 
passage for herself and her suite, and which would 
take her thither in twenty-four hours. 

The town was full of troops, waiting a summons 
to join Marshal Berwick’s army. Several resplendent 
officers had already paid their respects to Madame 
I’Ambassadrice, and they concurred in the advice, 
unless she would prefer waiting for the arrival of 
one of the French transports which were to take men 
and provisions to the army in Spain. 

This, however, she declined, and only accepted the 
services of the gentlemen so far as to have her pass- 
ports renewed, as was needful, since they were to be 
conveyed by the vessel of an independent power, 
though always an ally of France. 

The tartan was a beautiful object, a one-decked, 
single-masted vessel, with a long bowsprit, and a huge 
lateen sail like a wing, and the children fell in love 
with her at first sight. Estelle was quite sure that 
she was just such a ship as Mentor borrowed for 
Telemachus ; but the poor maids were horribly fright- 
ened, and Babette might be heard declaring she had 
never engaged herself to be at the mercy of the 
waves, like a bit of lemon -peel in a glass of eau 
sucr^. 

You may return,” said Madame de Bourke. “ I 
compel no one to share our dangers and hardships.” 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


51 


But Babette threw herself on her knees, and de- 
clared that nothing should ever separate her from 
madame ! She was a good creature, but she could not 
deny herself the luxury of the sobs and tears that 
showed to all beholders the extent of her sacrifice. 

Madame de Bourke knew that there would be con- 
siderable discomfort in a vessel so little adapted for 
passengers, and with only one small cabin, which the 
captain, who spoke French, resigned to her use. It 
would only, however, be for a short time, and though 
it was near the end of October, the blue expanse of 
sea was calm as only the Mediterranean can be, so 
that she trusted that no harm would result to those 
who would have to spend the night on deck. 

It was a beautiful evening when the little Genoese 
vessel left the harbor and Cette receded in the dis- 
tance, looking fairer the farther it was left behind. 
The children were put to bed as soon as they could 
be persuaded to cease from watching the lights in the 
harbor and the phosphorescent wake of the vessel in 
the water. 

That night and the next day were pleasant and 
peaceful ; there was no rough weathei*, and little sick- 
ness among the travellers. Madame de Bourke con- 
gratulated herself on having escaped the horrors of 
the Pyrenean journey, and the Genoese captain as- 
sured her that unless the weather should change 
rapidly they would wake in sight of the Spanish 
coast the next morning. If the sea were not almost 
too calm, they would be there already. The evening 
was again so delightful that the children were glad 
to hear that they would have again to return by sea, 
and Arthur, who somewhat shrank from his presen ta- 


52 


A modp:rn telemachus. 


tion to the count, regretted that the end of the voy- 
age was so near, though Ulysse assured him that 
Mon jpcvpob would love him, because he could tell 
such charming stories,” and Lanty testified that M. 
le Comte was a mighty friendly gentleman.” 

Arthur was lying asleep on deck, wrapped in his 
cloak, when he was awakened by a commotion among 
the sailors. He started up and found that it was 
early morning, the sun rising above the sea, and the 
sailors all gazing eagerly in that direction. He eager- 
ly made his way to ask if they were in sight of land, 
recollecting, however, as he made the first step, that 
Spain lay to the west of them— not to the east. ^ 

He distinguished the cry from the Genoese sailors, 
“iZ Moro—ll tones of horror and conster- 

nation, and almost at the same moment received a 
shock from Maitre Hebert, who came stumbling 
against him. 

“Pardon, pardon, monsieur; I go to prepare 
madame! It’s the accursed Moors. Let me pass — 
mishicorde^^h^t will become of us?” 

Arthur struggled on in search of such of the crew 
as could speak French, but all were in too much con- 
sternation to attend to him, and he could only watch 
that to which their eyes were directed, a white sail, 
bright in the morning light, coming up with a rapid- 
ity strange and fearful in its precision, like a hawk 
pouncing on its prey, for it did not depend on its 
sails alone, but was propelled by oars. 

The next moment Madame de Bourke was on deck, 
holding by the abbe’s arm, and Estelle, her hair on 
her shoulders, clinging to her. She looked very pale, 
but her calmness was in contrast to the Italian sailors. 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


53 


who were throwing themselves with gestures of de- 
spair, screaming out vows to the Madonna and saints, 
and shouting imprecations. The skipper came to 
speak to her. “Madame,” he said, “I implore you 
to remain in your cabin. After the first, you and all 
yours will be safe. They cannot harm a French sub- 
ject; alas! alas! would it were so with us.” 

“How then will it be with you?” she asked. 

He made a gesture of deprecation. 

“ For me it will be ruin ; for my poor fellows 
slavery ; that is, if we survive the onset. Madame, I 
entreat of you, take shelter in the cabin, yourself and 
all yonrs. None can answer for what the first rush 
of these fiends may be! JDiavoli! mri diavola! 
Ah ! for which of my sins is it that after fifty voy- 
ages I should be condemned to lose my all ?” 

A fresh outburst of screams from the crew sum- 
moned the captain. “ They are putting out the long- 
boat,” was the cry ; “ they will board us !” 

“ Madame ! I entreat of you, shut yourself into the 
cabin.” 

And the four maids, in various stages of deshabille^ 
adding their cries to those of the sailors, tried to drag 
her in, but she looked about for Arthur. “ Come 
with us, monsieur,” she said, quietl}^, for after all her 
previous depressions and alarms, her spirit rose to en- 
durance in the actual stress of danger. “Come with 
us, I entreat of you,” she said. “You are named in 
our passports, and the treaties are such that neither 
French nor English subjects can be maltreated nor 
enslaved by these wretches. As the captain says, the 
dano^er is only in the first attack.” 

“I will protect you, madame, with my life,” de- 


54 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


dared Arthur, drawing his sword, as his dieeks and 
eyes lighted. 

Ah, put that away. What could you do but lose 
your own cried the lady. ‘‘ Remember, you have 
a mother — ’’ 

The Genoese captain here turned to insist that 
madame and all the women should shut themselves 
instantly into the cabin. Estelle dragged hard at 
Arthur’s hand, with entreaties that he would come, 
but he lifted her down the ladder, and then closed 
the door on her, Lanty and he being both left out- 
side. 

“ To be shut into a hole like a rat in a trap when 
there’s blows to the fore is more than flesh could 
stand,” said Lanty, who had seized on a handspike 
and was waving it about his head, true shillalah 
fashion, by hereditary instinct in one who had never 
beheld a faction fight, in what ought to have been 
his native land. 

The Genoese captain looked at him as a madman, 
and shouted in a confused mixture of French and 
Italian to lay down his weapon. 

“ Quei cattim — ces scelerats were armed to the teeth 
— would fire. All lie flat on the deck !” 

The gesture spoke for itself. With a fearful howl 
all the Italians dropped flat ; but neither Scotch nor 
Irish blood brooked to follow their example, or per- 
haps fully perceived the urgency of the need, till a 
volley of bullets were whistling about their ears, 
though happily without injury, the mast and the rig- 
ging having protected them, for the sail was riddled 
with holes, and the smoke dimmed their vision as the 
report sounded in their ears. In another second the 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


55 


tnrbaned, scimitared figures were leaping on board. 
The Genoese still lay flat, offering no resistance, but 
Lanty and Arthur stood on either side of the ladder, 
and liurled back the two who first approached ; but 
four or five more rushed upon them, and they would 
have been instantly cut down, had it' not been for a 
shout from the Genoese, Franchi ! Franchi /” At 
that magic word, which was evidently understood, the 
pirates only held the two youths tightly, vituperat- 
ing them no doubt in bad Arabic, Lanty grinding his 
teeth with rage, though scarcely feeling the pain of 
the two sabre cuts he had received, and pouring forth 
a volley of exclamations, chiefly, however, directed 
against the white-livered spalpeens of sailors, who had 
not lifted so much as a hand to help him. Fortunate- 
ly no one understood a word he said but Arthur, who 
had military experience enough to know there was 
nothing for it but to stand still in the grasp of his 
captor, a wiry-looking Moor, with a fez, and a striped 
sash round his waist. 

The leader, a sturdy Turk in a dirty white turban, 
with a huge sabre in his hand, was listening to the 
eager words, poured out with many gesticulations by 
the Genoese captain, in a language utterly incompre- 
hensible to the Scot, but which was the lingua Franca 
of the Mediterranean ports. 

It resulted in four men being placed on guard at 
the hatchway leading to the cabin, while all the rest, 
including Arthur, Hebert, Laurence, were driven 
towards the prow, and made to understand by signs 
that they must not move on peril of their lives. A 
Turk was placed at the helm, and the tartan’s head 
turned towards the pirate captor; and all the others, 


56 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


who were not employed otherwise, began to ransack 
the vessel and feast on the provisions. Some hams 
were thrown overboard, with shouts of evident scorn 
as belonging to the unclean beast, but the wine was 
eagerly drunk, and Maitre Hebert uttered a wail of 
dismay as he saw five Moors gorging large pieces of 
his finest 


CHAPTER lY. 


WRECKED. 

“ They had na sailed upon the sea 
A day but barely three, 

When the lift grew dark and the wind blew cauld 
And gurly grew the sea. 

“Oh where will I find a little wee boy 
Will tak my helm in hand, 

Till I gae up to my topmast 
And see for some dry land.” 

— Sir Patrick Spens. 

It was bad enough on tlie deck of the unfortunate 
Genoese tartan, but far worse below, where eight 
persons were shut into the stifling atmosphere of the 
cabin, deprived of the knowledge of what was going 
on above, except from the terrific sounds they heard. 
Estelle, on being shut into the cabin, announced that 
the Phoenician ship was taken by the vessels of Sesos- 
tris, but this did not afford any one else the same 
satisfaction as she appeared to derive from it. Ba- 
bette and Rosette were echoing every scream of the 
crew, and quite certain that all would be massacred, 
and little Ulysse, wakened by the hubbub, rolled 
round in his berth and began to cry. 

Madame de Bourke, very white, but quite calm, 
insisted on silence, and then said, “ I do not think the 
danger is very great to ourselves if you will keep 
silence and not attract attention. But our hope is 
in Heaven. My brother, will you lead our prayers? 


58 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


Recite onr office.” Obediently the abbe fell on his 
knees, and his example was followed by the others. 
His voice went monotonously on throughout with the 
Latin. The lady, no doubt, followed in her heart, 
and she made the responses as did the others, fitfully ; 
but her hands and eyes were busy, looking to the 
priming of two small pistols, which she took out of 
her jewel-case, and the sight of which provoked fresh 
shrieks from the maids. Mademoiselle Julienne 
meantime was dressing Uljsse, and standing guard 
over him, Estelle watching all with eager, bright eyes, 
scarcely frightened, but burning to ask questions, 
from which her uncle’s prayers debarred her. 

At the volley of shot. Rosette was reduced to 
quiet by a swoon, but Yictorine, screaming that 
the wretches had killed Laurent, would have rushed 
on deck had not her mistress forcibly withheld 
her. There ensued a prodigious yelling and howl- 
ing, trampling and scuffling, then the sounds of 
strange languages in vituperation or command, steps 
coming down the ladder, sounds of altercation, retreat, 
splashes in the sea, the feeling that the ship was put 
about — and ever the trampling, the wild cries of ex- 
ultation, which over and over again made the prison- 
ers feel choked with the horror of some frightful crisis 
close at hand. And all the time they were in igno- 
rance their little window in the stern showed them 
nothing but sea; and even if Madame de Bourke’s 
determination had not hindered Yictorine from peep- 
ing out of the cabin, whether prison or fortress, the 
Moorish sentries outside kept the door closed. 

How long this continued was scarcely to be 
guessed. It was hours by their own feelings; 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


59 


Ulysse began to cry from hunger, and his mother 
gave him and Estelle some cakes that were within 
reach. Mademoiselle Julienne begged her lady to 
share the repast, reminding her that she would need 
all her strength. The abbe, too, was hungry enough, 
and some wine and preserved fruits coming to light, 
all the prisoners made a meal which heartened most 
of them considerably ; although the heat was becom- 
ing terrible, as the sun rose higher in the sky, and 
very little air could be obtained through the window, 
so that poor Julienne could not eat, and Kosette fell 
into a heavy sleep in the midst of her sighs. Even 
Estelle, who had got out her Telemaque, like a sort 
of oracle in the course of being verified, was asleep 
over it, when fresh noises and grating sounds were 
heard, new steps on deck, and there were steps and 
voices. The Genoese captain was heard exclaiming, 
“ Open, madame ! you can do so safely. This is the 
Algerine captain, who is bound to protect you.” 

The maids huddled together behind their lady, 
who stood forward as the door opened to admit a 
stout, squarely-built man in the typical dress of a 
Turk — white turban, purple coat, broad sash crammed 
with weapons, and ample trousers — a truculent-look- 
ing figure which made the maids shudder and em- 
brace one another with suppressed shrieks, but which 
somehow, even in the midst of his Eastern salaam, 
gave the countess a sense that he was acting a 
comedy, and carried her involuntarily back to the 
Moors whom she had seen in the Cid on the stage. 
And looking again, she perceived that though brown 
and weather-beaten, there was a certain Northern 
ruddiness inherent in his complexion ; that his eyes 


60 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


were gray, so far as they were visible between the 
surrounding puckers; and his eyebrows, mustache, 
and beard not nearly so dark as the hair of the 
Genoese who stood cringing beside him as inter- 
preter. She formed her own conclusions and ad- 
hered to them, though he spoke in bad Arabic to 
the skipper, who proceeded to explain that El Rei^ 
Hamed would offer no injury to Madame la Com- 
tesse, her suite or property, being bound by treaty 
between the dey and the King of France, but that 
he required to see her passport. There was a little 
blundering in the Italian’s French rendering, and 
Madame de Bourke was quick to detect the per- 
ception of it in the countenance of the reis, stolid 
though it was. She felt no doubt that he was a rene- 
gade of European birth, and watched, with much 
anxiety as well as curiosity, his manner of dealing 
with her passports, which she would not let out of 
her own hand. She saw in a moment that though 
he let the Genoese begin to interpret them, his eyes 
were following intelligently ; and she hazarded the 
observation, “ You understand, sir. You are Frank 

He turned one startled glance towards the door 
to see if there were any listeners, and answered, 
Hollander, Madame.” 

The countess had travelled with diplomatists all 
her life, and knew a little of the vernacular of most 
languages, and it was in Dutch— broken indeed, but 
still Dutch — that she declared that she was sure that 
she might rely on his protection— a security which 
in truth she was far from feeling ; for while some of 
these unfortunate men, renegades only from weak- 
ness, yearned after their compatriots and their lost 


A MODERN TELEaiACHUS. 


61 


home and faith, others out-Heroded the Moors them- 
selves in ferocity, especially towards the Christian 
captives; nor was a Dutchman likely to have any 
special tenderness in his composition, above all tow- 
ards the French. However, there was a certain smile 
on the lips of Reis Hamed, and he answered with a 
very hearty, “Ja! ja! madame. Upon my soul I 
will let no harm come to you or the pretty little 
ones, nor the young vrouwkins either, if they will 
keep close. You are safe by treaty. A reis would 
have to pay a heavy reckoning with Mehemed Dey 
if a French ambassador had to complain of him, and 
you will bear me witness, madame, that I have not 
touched a hair of any of your heads !” 

‘‘I am sure you wish me well, sir,” said Madame 
de Bourke, in a digniiied way, “but I require to be 
certified of the safety of the rest of my suite, my 
steward, m}^ lackey, and my husband’s secretary, a 
young gentleman of noble birth.” 

“They are safe, madame. This Italian slave can 
bear me witness that no creature has been harmed 
since my crew boarded this vessel.” 

“I desire then that they may be released, as being 
named in my passport.” 

To this the Dutchman consented. 

Whereupon the skipper began to wring his hands, 
and piteously to beseech madame to intercede for 
him, but the Dutchman cut him short before she 
could speak. “ Dog of an Italian, the lady knows 
better! You and your fellows are our prize — poor 
enough after all the trouble you have given us in 
chasing you.” 

Madame de Bourke spoke kindly to the poor man. 


8 * 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


telling him that though she could do nothing for him 
now, it was possible that she might when she should 
have rejoined her husband, and she then requested 
the reis to land her and her suite in his long-boat on 
the Spanish coast, which could be seen in the dis- 
tance, promising him ample reward if he would do so. 

To this he replied, “Madame, you ask what would 
be death to me.” 

He went on to explain that if he landed her on 
Christian ground, without first presenting her and 
her passport to the dey and the French consul, his 
men might represent him as acting in the interests 
of the Christians, and as a traitor to the Algerine 
power, by taking a bribe from a person belonging 
to a hostile state, in which case the bowstring would 
be the utmost mercy he could expect; and the reign- 
ing dey, Mehemed, having been only recently chosen, 
it was impossible to guess how he might deal with 
such cases. Once at Algiers, he.assured Madame de 
Bourke that she would have nothing to fear, as she 
would be under the protection of the French consul ; 
and she had no choice but to submit, though much 
concerned for the continued anxiety to her husband, 
as well as the long delay and uncertainty of finding 
him. 

Still, when she perceived that it was inevitable, 
she complained no more, and the Dutchman went on 
with a certain bluff kindness — as one touched by her 
courtesy — to offer her the choice of remaining in the 
tartan or coming on board his larger vessel. The 
latter he did not recommend, as he had a crew of full 
■ two hundred Turks and Moors, and it would be neces- 
sary to keep herself and all her women as closely as 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


63 


possible secluded in the cabins ; and even then, he 
added, that if once seen he could hardly answer for 
some of these corsairs not endeavoring to secure a 
fair young Frank girl for his harem ; and as his eye 
fell on Hosette, she bridled and hid herself behind 
Mademoiselle Julienne. 

He must, he said, remove all the Genoese, but he 
would send on board the tartan only seven men, on 
whom he could perfectly depend for respectful be- 
havior, so that the captives would be able to take the 
air on deck as freely as before. There was no doubt 
that he w’as in earnest, and the lady accepted his offer 
with thanks, all the stronger since she and all around 
her were panting and sick for want of fresh air. 

It was a great relief when he took lier on deck 
with him that she might identify the three men 
whom she claimed as belonging to her suite. Arthur, 
Lanty, and Hebert, who, in their vague knowledge 
of the circumstances, had been dreading the oar for 
the rest of their lives, could hardly believe their good- 
fortune when she called them up to her, and the abbe 
gripped Lanty’s arm as if he would never let him go 
again. The poor Italians seemed to feel their fate 
all the harder for the deliverance of these three, and 
sobbed, howled, and wept so piteously that Arthur 
wondered how strong men could so give way, while 
Lanty’s tears sprang forth in sympathy, and he uttered 
assurances and made signs that he would never cease 
to pray for their rescue. 

“ Though,” as he observed, “ they were poor creat- 
ures that hadn’t the heart of a midge, when there 
was such a chance of a fight while the haythen spal- 
peens were coming on board.” 


64 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


Here Lanty was called on to assist Hebert in 
identifying his lady’s bales of goods, when all those 
of the unfortunate Genoese were put on board the 
corsair’s vessel. A sail-cloth partition w’as extended 
across the deck by the care of the Dutchman, “ who” 
— as Lanty said — “ for a hay then apostate was a veiy 
dacent man.” He evidently had a strong compassion 
and fellow-feeling for the Christian lady, and assured 
her that she might safely take the air and sit on deck 
as much as she pleased behind its shelter ; and he like- 
wise carefully selected the seven of his crew whom 
he sent on board to w’ork the ship, the chief being 
a heavy-looking old Turk, with a chocolate-colored 
visage between a huge white beard and eyebrows, 
and the others mere lads, except one, who, from an 
indefinable European air about him, w^as evidently a 
renegade, and could speak a sort of French, so as 
to hold communication with the captives, especially 
Lanty, wiio w^as much quicker than any of the rest 
in picking up languages, perhaps from having from 
his infancy talked French and English (or rather 
Irish), and likewise learned Latin with his foster- 
brother. This man was the only one permitted to 
go astern of the partition, in case of need, to attend 
to the helm ; but the vessel was taken in tow by the 
corsair, and needed little management. The old 
Turk seemed to regard the Frankish women like so 
many basilisks, and avoided turning a glance in their 
direction, roaring at his crew if he only saw them ap- 
proaching the sail-cloth, and keeping a close w^atch 
upon the lithe, black-eyed youths, whose brown limbs 
carried them up the mast with the agility of monkeys. 
There was one in especial — a slight, w^ell-made fellow 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


65 


about twenty, with a white turban cleaner than the 
rest — who contrived to cast wonderful glances from 
the masthead over the barrier at Eosette, who actually 
Smiled in return at ce pauvre garc^on^ and smiled the 
*nore for Mademoiselle Julienne’s indignation. Sud- 
denly, however, a shrill shout made him descend 
hastily, and the old Turk’s voice might be heard in 
its highest key, no doubt shrieking out maledictions 
on all the ancestry of the son of a dog who durst de- 
file his eyes with gazing at the shameless daughters 
of the Frank. Little Ulysse was, however, allowed 
to disport himself wherever he pleased; and after 
once, under Arthur’s protection, going forward, he 
found himself made very welcome, and offered vari- 
ous curiosities, such as shells, corals, and a curious 
dried little hippocampus, or sea-horse. 

This he brought back in triumph, to the extreme 
delight of his sister’s classical mind. “ Oh ! mamma, 
mamma,” she cried, “ Ulysse really has got the skele- 
ton of a Triton. It is exactly like the stone creatures 
in the Champs Elysdes.” 

There was no denying the resemblance, and it so 
increased the confusion in Estelle’s mind between 
the actual and the mythological, that Arthur told her 
that she was looking out for the car of Amphitrite to 
arise from the waters. Anxiety and trouble had 
made him much better acquainted with Madame de 
Bourke, who was grateful to him for his kindness to 
her children, and not without concern as to whether 
she should be able to procure his release as well as 
her own at Algiers. For Laurence Callaghan she 
had no fears, since he was born at Paris, and a natu- 
ralized French subject like her liusband and his 
6 


66 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


brother ; but Arthur was undoubtedly a Briton, and 
unless she could pass him off as one of her suite, it 
would depend on the temper of the English consul 
whether he should be viewed as a subject or as a 
rebel, or simply left to captivity until his Scottish 
relations should have the choice of ransoming him. 

She took a good deal of pains to explain the cir- 
cumstances to him as well as to all who could under- 
stand them ; for though she hoped to keep all to- 
gether, and to be able to act for them herself, no one 
could guess how they might be separated, and she 
could not shake off that foreboding of misfortune 
which had haunted her from the first. 

The kingdom of Algiers was, she told them, trib- 
utary to the Turkish sultan, who kept a guard of 
janizaries there, from among whom they themselves 
elected the dey. He was supposed to govern by the 
consent of a divan, but was practically as despotic as 
any Eastern sovereign ; and the aga of the janizaries 
was next in authority to him. Piracy on the Medi- 
terranean was, as all knew, the chief occupation of 
the Turks and Moors of any spirit or enterprise, a 
Turk being in authority in each vessel to make sure 
that the sultan had his share, and that the capture was 
so conducted as not to involve Turkey in dangerous 
wars with European powers. Capture by the Moors 
had for several centuries been one of the ordinary 
contingencies of a voyage, and the misfortune that 
had happened to the party was not at all an unusual 
one. 

In 1687, however, the nuisance had grown to such 
a height that Admiral Du Quesne bombarded the 
town of Algiers, and destroyed all the fortifications, 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


67 


peace being only granted on condition that a French 
consul should reside at Algiers, and that French 
ships and subjects should be exempt from this vio- 
lence of the corsairs. 

The like treaties existed with the English, but 
had been very little heeded by the Algerines till 
recently, when the possession of Gibraltar and Mi- 
norca had provided harbors for British ships, which 
exercised a salutary supervision over these Southern 
sea-kings. The last dey. Baba Hali, had been a wise 
and prudent man, anxious to repress outrage, and to 
be on good terms with the two great European 
powers; but he had died in the spring of the current 
year, 1718, and the temper of his successor, Mehemed, 
had not yet been proved. 

Madame de Bourke had some trust in the Dutch 
reis, renegade though he was. She had given him 
her beautiful watch, set with brilliants, and he had 
taken it with a certain gruff reluctance, declaring 
that he did not want it ; he was ready enough to 
serve her without such a toy. 

FTevertheless the lady thought it well to impress 
on each and all, in case of any separation or further 
disaster, that their appeal must be to the French 
consul, explaining minutely the forms in which it 
should be made. 

‘‘I cannot tell you,” she said to Arthur, ‘‘how 
great a comfort it is to me to have with me a gentle- 
man, one of intelligence and education, to whom I 
can confide my poor children. I know you will do 
your utmost to protect them and restore them to 
their father.” 

“ With my very heart’s blood, madame.” 


68 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


“ I hope that may not be asked of you, monsieur,” 
she returned, with a faint smile, “though I fear 
there may be much of perplexity and difficulty in 
the way before again rejoining him. You see where 
I have placed our passports? My daughter knows 
it likewise; but in case of their being taken from 
you, or any other accident happening to you, I have 
written these two letters, which you had better bear 
about your person. One is, as you see, to our con- 
sul at Algiers, and may serve as credentials; the 
other is to my husband, to whom I have already 
written respecting you.” 

“A thousand thanks, madame,” returned Arthur. 
“ But I hope and trust we may all reach M. le Comte 
in safety together. You yourself said that you ex- 
pected only a brief detention before he could be com- 
municated with, and this captain, renegade though 
he be, evidently has a respect for you.” 

“ That is quite true,” she returned, “ and it may 
only be my foolish heart that forebodes evil ; never- 
theless, I cannot but recollect that c'est Vimprevu 
qui arrive.^^ 

“Then, madame, that is the very reason there 
should be no misfortune,” returned Arthur. 

It was on the second day after the capture of the 
tartan that the sun set in a purple, angry - looking 
bank of cloud, and the sea began to heave in a man- 
ner which renewed the earlier distresses of the voy- 
age to such as were bad sailors. The sails both of 
the corsair and of the tartan were taken in, and it 
was plain that a rough night was to be expected. 
The children were lashed into their berths, and all 
prepared themselves to endure. The last time Arthur 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


69 


saw Madame de Bourke’s face, bj the light of the 
lamp swinging furiously from the cabin roof, as he 
assisted in putting in the dead lights, it bore the 
same fixed expression of fortitude and resignation 
as when she was preparing for the boarding by the 
pirates. 

He remained on deck, but it was very perilous, for 
the vessel was so low in the water that the waves 
dashed over it so wildly that he could hardly help 
being swept away. It was pitch dark, too, and the 
lantern of the other vessel could only just be seen, 
now high above their heads, now sinking in the 
trough of the sea, while the little tartan was lifted 
up as though on a mountain ; and in a kind of giddy 
dream, he thought of falling headlong upon her deck. 
Finally he found himself falling. Was he washed 
overboard ? Ho ; a sharp blow showed him that he 
had only fallen down the hatchway, and after lying 
still a moment, he heard the voices of Lanty and 
Hebert, and presently they were all tossed together 
by another lurch of the ship. 

It was a night of miseries that seemed endless, and 
when a certain amount of light appeared, and Arthur 
and Lanty crawled upon deck, the tempest was un- 
abated. They found themselves still dashed, as if 
their vessel were a mere cork, on the huge waves ; 
rushes of water coming over them, whether from sea 
or sky there was no knowing, for all seemed blended 
together in one mass of dark, lurid gray ; and where 
was the Algerine ship — so lately their great enemy, 
now watched for as their guide and guardian ? 

It was no place nor time for questions, even could 
they have been heard or understood. It was scarcely 


70 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


possible even to be heard by one another, and it 
was some time before they convinced themselves that 
the large vessel had disappeared. The cable must 
have parted in the night, and they were running with 
bare poles before the gale ; the seamanship of the 
man at the helm being confined to avoiding the more 
direct blows of the waves, on the huge crests of 
which the little tartan rode — gallantly perhaps in 
mariners’ eyes, but very wretchedly to the feelings 
of the unhappy landsmen within her. 

Arthur thought of St. Paul, and remembered with 
dismay that it was many days before sun or moon 
appeared. He managed to communicate his recollec- 
tion to Lanty, who exclaimed, “And he was a holy 
man, and he was a prisoner, too. He will feel for us 
if any man can in this sore strait ! Sancte Paule^ ora 
jpro nobis. An’ haven’t I got the blessed scapulary 
about me neck that will bring me through worse 
than this?” 

The three managed to get down to tell the unfort- 
unate inmates of the cabin what was the state of 
things, and to carry them some food, though at the 
expense of many falls and severe blows ; and almost 
all of them were too faint or nauseated to be able to 
swallow such food as could survive the transport 
under such circumstances. Yet high-spirited little 
Estelle entreated to be carried on deck, to see what a 
storm was like. She had read of them so often, and 
wanted to see as well as to feel. She was almost 
ready to cry when Artliur assured her it was quite 
impossible, and her mother added a grave order not 
to trouble him. 

Madame de Bourke looked so exhausted by the 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


71 


continual buffeting and the closeness of the cabin, 
and her voice was so weak, that Arthur grieved over 
the impossibility of giving her any air. Julienne 
tried to make her swallow some eau de vie j but the 
effort of steadying her hand seemed too much for 
her, and after a terrible lurch of the ship, which 
lodged the poor honne in the opposite corner of the 
cabin, the lady shook her head and gave up the at- 
tempt. Indeed, she seemed so worn out that Arthur 
— little used to the sight of fainting — began to fear 
that her forebodings of dying before she could re- 
join her husband were on the point of being real- 
ized. 

However, the gale abated towards evening, and 
the youth himself was so much worn out that the 
first respite was spent in sleep. When he awoke, the 
sea was much calmer, and the eastern sun was rising 
in glory over it ; the Turks, with their prayer-carpets 
in a line, were simultaneously kneeling and bowing 
in prayer, with their faces turned towards it. Lanty 
uttered an only too emphatic curse upon the mis- 
believers, and Arthur vainly tried to make him believe 
that their “ Allah il Allah ” was neither addressed to 
Mohammed nor the sun. 

“ Sure and if not, why did they make their obeis- 
ance to it all one as the Persians in the big histhory- 
book Master Phelim had at school 

“ It’s to the east they turn, Lanty, not to the sun.” 

“And what right have the haythen spalpeens to 
turn to the east like good Christians?” 

“ ’Tis to their prophet’s tomb they look, at 
Mecca.” 

“ There, an’ I tould you they were no better than 


72 A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 

haythens,” returned Lanty, “ to be praying and 
knocking their heads on the bare boards — that have 
as much sense as they have — to a dead man’s tomb.” 

Arthur’s Scotch mind thought the Moors might 
have had the best of it in argument when he recol- 
lected Lanty ’s trust in his scapula ry. 

They tried to hold a conversation with the reis, 
between lingua Franca and the Provencal of the 
renegade ; and they came to the conclusion that no 
one had the least idea where they were, or where 
they were going ; the ship’s compass had been broken 
in the boarding, and there was no chart more avail- 
able than the little map in the beginning of Es- 
telle’s precious copy of Tdleinaque. The Turkish 
reis did not trouble himself about it, but squatted 
himself down with his chibouque, abandoning all 
guidance of the ship, and letting her drift at the 
will of wind and wave, or, as he said, the will of 
Allah. When asked where he thought she was go- 
ing, he replied, with solemn indifference, “Kismet;” 
and all the survivors of the crew — for one had been 
washed overboard — seemed to share his resignation. 

The only thing he did seem to care for was that 
if the infidel woman chose to persist in coming on 
deck, the canvas screen — which had been washed 
overboard — should be restored. This was done, and 
Madame de Bourke was assisted to a couch that had 
been prepared for her with cloaks, where the air re- 
vived her a little; but she listened with a faint smile 
to the assurances of Arthur, backed by Hebert, that 
this abandonment to fate gave the best chance. 
They might either be picked up by a Christian ves- 
sel or go ashore on a Christian coast ; but Madame 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


73 


de Boiirke did not build much on these hopes. She 
knew too well what were the habits of wreckers of 
all nations to think that it would make njuch differ- 
ence whether they were driven on the coast of Sicily 
or of Africa — “ barring,” as Lanty said, “ that they 
should get Christian burial in the former case.” 

“We are in the hands of a good God. That at 
least we know,” said the countess. “And he can 
bear us through, whether for life in Paradise, or 
trial a little longer here below.” 

“ Like Blandina,” observed Estelle. 

“ Ah ! my child, who knows whether trials Mke 
even that blessed saint’s may not be in reserve even 
for your tender age. When I think of these miser- 
able men, who have renounced their faith, I see what 
fearful ordeals there may be for those who fall into 
the hands of these unbelievers. Strong men have 
yielded. How may it not be with my poor chil- 
dren ?” 

“ God made Blandina brave, mamma. I will pray 
that he may make me so.” 

Land was in sight at last. Purple mountains rose 
to the south in wild forms, looking strangely thun- 
derous and red in the light of the sinking sun. A 
bay, with rocks jutting out far into the sea, seemed 
to embrace them with its arms. Soundings were 
made, and presently the reis decided on anchoring. 
It was a rocky coast, with cliffs descending into the 
sea, covered with verdure, and the water beneath was 
clear as glass. 

“ Have we escaped the Syrtes to fall upon -Eneas’s 
cave?” murmured Arthur to himself. 

“And if we could meet Queen Dido, or maybe 


74 


A lilODERN TELEMACHUS. 


Venus herself, ’t would be no bad thing!” observed 
Lanty, who remembered his Virgil on occasion. 
“ For there’s not a drop of wather left barring eau 
de and if these Moors get at that, ’tis raving 
madmen they would be.” 

“ Do they know where we are ?” asked Arthur. 

“ Sorrah a bit 1” returned Lanty, “ tho’ ’tis a pretty 
place enough. If my old mother was here, ’tis her 
heart would warm to the mountains.” 

“Is it Calypso’s island?” whispered Ulysse to his 
sister. 

“ See, what are they doing?” cried Estelle. “ There 
are people — don’t you see, white specks crowding 
down to the water.” 

There was just then a splash, and two bronzed 
figures were seen setting forth from the tartan to 
swim to shore. The Turkish reis had despatched 
them, to ascertain whither the vessel had drifted 
and who the inhabitants might be. 

A good while elapsed before one of these scouts 
returned. There was a great deal of talk and gestic- 
ulating round him, and Lanty, mingling wdth it, 
brought back word that the place was the Bay of 
Golo, not far from Djigheli, and just beyond the 
Algerine frontier. The people were Cabeleyzes, a 
wild race of savage dogs, which means dogs accord- 
ing to the Moors, living in the mountains, and in- 
dependent of the dey. A considerable number 
rushed to the coast, armed ; and many, perceiving 
the tartan to be an Italian vessel, expected a raid 
by Sicilian robbers on their cattle; but the Moors 
had informed them that it was no such thing, but 
a prize taken in the name of the Dey of Algiers, 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


75 


in which an illustrious French bey’s harem was being 
conveyed to Algiers. From that city the tartan was 
now about a day’s sail, having been driven to the 
eastward of it during the storm, “ The Turkish com- 
mander evidently does not like the neighborhood,” 
said Arthur, “ judging by his gestures.” 

“Dogs and sons of dogs are the best names he 
has for them,” rejoined Lanty. 

“ See ! They have cut the cable ! Are we not to 
wait for the other man who swam ashore ?” 

So it was. A favorable wind w^as blowing, and 
the reis, being by no means certain of the disposi- 
tion of the Cabeleyzes, chose to leave them belli nd 
him as soon as possible and make his way to Algiers, 
which began to appear to his unfortunate passengers 
like a haven of safety. 

They were not, however, out of the bay when the 
wind suddenly veered, and before the great lateen 
sail could be reefed it had almost caused the vessel 
to be blown over. There was a pitching and tossing 
almost as violent as in the storm, and then wind and 
current began carrying the tartan towards the rocky 
shore. The reis called the men to the oars, but their 
numbers were too few to be availing, and in a very 
few minutes more the vessel was driven hopelessly 
towards a mass of rocks. 

Arthur, the abbd, Hdbert, and Lanty were all 
standing together at the head of the vessel. The 
poor abbd seemed dazed, and kept dreamily finger- 
ing his rosary, and murmuring to himself. The other 
three consulted in a low voice. 

“Were it not better to have the women here on 
deck ?” asked Arthur. 


76 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


Eh, non /” sobbed Master Hubert. “ Let not my 
poor mistress see what is coming on her and her 
little ones 

“ Ah ! and ’tis better, if the innocent creatures 
must be drowned, that it should be without being 
insensed of it till they wake in our Lady’s blessed 
arms,” added Lanty. “Hark! and they are at their 
prayers.” 

But just then Yictorine rushed up from below, 
and throwing her arms round Lanty, cried, “ Oh ! 
Laurent, Laurent. It is not true that it is all over 
with us, is it? Oh ! save me ! save me !” 

“ And if I cannot save you, mine own heart’s core, 
we’ll die together,” returned the poor fellow, hold- 
ing her fast. “ It won’t last long, Yictorine, and the 
saints have a hold of my scapulary.” 

He had scarcely spoken when, lifted upon a wave, 
the tartan dashed upon the rocks, and there was at 
once a horrible shivering and crashing throughout her 
— a frightful mingling of shrieks and yells of despair 
with the wild roar of the waves that poured over 
her. The party at the head of the vessel were con- 
scious of clinging to something, and when the first 
hurly-burly ceased a little they found themselves all 
together against the bulwark, the vessel almost on 
her beam ends, wedged into the rocks, their portion 
high and dry, but the stern, where the cabin was, en- 
tirely under water. 

Yictorine screamed aloud, “My lady! my poor 
lady!” 

“ I see — I see something,” cried Arthur, who had 
already thrown off his coat, and in another moment 
he had brought up Estelle in his arms, alive, sob- 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


77 


bing, and panting. Giving her over to the steward, 
he made another dive, but then was lost sight of, and 
returned no more, nor was anything to be seen of 
the rest. Shut up in the cabin, Madame de Bourke, 
Ulysse, and the three maids must have been instant- 
ly drowned, and none of the crew were to be seen. 
Maitre Hebert held the little girl in his arms, glad 
that, though living, she was only half -conscious. 
Yictorine, sobbing, hung heavily on Lanty, and be- 
fore he could free his hands he perceived to his dis- 
may that the abbd, unassisted, was climbing down 
from the wreck upon the rock, scarcely perhaps aware 
of his danger. 

Lanty tried to put Yictorine aside, and called out, 
“ Your reverence, wait — Masther Phelim, wait till I 
come and help you.” But the girl, frantic with ter- 
ror, grappled him fast, screaming to him not to let 
her go — and at the same moment a wave broke over 
the abbe. Lanty, almost wild, was ready to leap into 
it after him, thinking he must be sucked back with 
it, but behold ! he still remained clinging to the rock. 
Instinct seemed to serve him, for he had stuck his 
knife into the rock and was holding on by it. There 
seemed no foothold, and while Lanty was deliber- 
ating how to go to his assistance, another wave 
washed him off and bore him to the next rock, which 
was only separated from the mainland by a channel 
of smoother water. He tried to catch at a floating 
plank, but in vain ; however, an oar next drifted 
towards him, and by it he gained the land, but only 
to be instantly surrounded by a mob of Cabeleyzes, 
who seemed to be stripping off his garments. By 
this time many were swimming towards the wreck ; 


78 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


and Estelle, who had recovered breath and senses, 
looked over Hubert’s shoulder at them. “ The sav- 
ages ! the infidels!” she said. ‘‘Will they kill me? 
or will they try to make me renounce my faith? 
They shall kill me rather than make me yield.” 

“ Ah ! yes, my dear demoiselle^ that is right. That 
is the only way. It is my resolution likewise,” re- 
turned Hdbert. God give us grace to persist.” 

“ My mamma said so,” repeated the child. “ Is 
she drowned, Maitre Hubert?” 

“ She is happier than we are, my dear young 
lady.” 

“ And my little brother, too ! Ah ! then I shall 
remember that they are only sending me to them in 
Paradise.” 

By this time the natives were near the wreck, and 
Estelle, shuddering, clung closer to Hebert; but he 
had made up his mind what to do. “ I must commit 
you to these men, mademoiselle,” he said ; “ the water 
is rising — we shall perish if we remain here.” 

“ Ah ! but it would not hurt . so much to be 
drowned,” said Estelle, who had made up her mind 
to Blandina’s chair. 

“ I must endeavor to save you for your father, 
mademoiselle, and your poor grandmother! There! 
be a good child ! Do not struggle.” 

He had attracted the attention of some of the 
swimmers, and he now flung her to them. One 
caught her by an arm, another by a leg, and she was 
safely taken to the shore, wliere at once a shoe and a 
stocking were taken from her, in token of her becom- 
ing a captive ; but otherwise her garments were not 
meddled with ; in which she was happier than her 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


79 


uncle, whom she found crouched up on a rock, 
stripped almost to the skin, so that he shrank from her, 
when she sprang to his side amid the Babel of wild 
men and women, who were shouting in exultation 
and wonder over his big flapped hat, his soutane and 
bands, pointing at his white limbs and yellow hair — 
or, what amazed them even more, Estelle’s light, flax- 
en locks, which hung soaked around her. She felt a 
hand pulling them to see whether anything so strange 
actually grew on her head, and she turned round to 
confront them with a little gesture of defiant dignity 
that evidently awed them, for they kept their hands 
off her, and did not interfere as she stood sentry over 
her poor, shivering uncle. 

Lanty was by this time trying to drag Yictorine 
over the rocks and through the water. The poor 
Parisienne was very helpless, falling, hurting herself, 
and screaming continually ; and trebly, when a couple 
of natives seized upon her and dragged her ashore, 
where they immediately snatched away her mantle 
and cap, pulled off her gold chain and cross, and tore 
out her earrings with howls of delight. 

Lanty, struggling on, was likewise pounced upon, 
and bereft of his fine green -and-gold livery coat and 
waistcoat, which, though by no means his best, and 
stained with the sea water, were grasped with ecstasy, 
quarrelled over, and displayed in triumph. The 
steward had secured a rope by which he likewise 
reached the shore, only to become the prey of the 
savages, who instantly made prize of his watch and 
purse, as well as of almost all his garments. The five 
unfortunate survivors would fain have remained hud- 
dled together, but the natives pointing to some huts 


80 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


on the hillside, urged them thither by the language 
of shouts and blows. 

“ Faith and Fm not an ox,” exclaimed Lanty, as 
if the fellow could have understood him, “ and is it 
to the shambles you’re driving me?” 

“Best not resist! There’s nothing for it but to 
obey them,” said the steward, “ and at least there will 
be shelter for the child.” 

No objection was made to his lifting her in his 
arms, and he carried her, as the party, half-drowned, 
nearly starved and exhausted, stumbled on along the 
rocky paths which cut their feet cruelly, since their 
shoes had all been taken from them. Lanty gave 
what help he could to the abbe and Y^'ctorine, who 
were both in a miserable plight, but ere long he was 
obliged to take his turn in carrying Estelle, whose 
weight had become too much for the worn-out 
Hebert. He was alarmed to find, on transferring 
her, that her head sank on his shoulder as if in a 
sleep of exhaustion, which, however, shielded her 
from much terror. For, as they arrived at a clus- 
ter of five or six huts, built of clay and the branches 
of trees, out rushed a host of women, children, 
and large fierce dogs, all making as much noise as 
they were capable of. The dogs fiew at the strange 
white forms, no doubt utterly new to them. Yic- 
torine was severely bitten, and Lanty, trying to rescue 
her, had his leg torn. 

These two were driven into one hut; Estelle, who 
was evidently considered as the greatest prize, was 
taken into another and rather better one, together 
with the steward and the abb4. The Moors who had 
swum ashore had probably told them that she was 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


81 


the Frankish bey’s daughter; for this, miserable 
place though it was, appeared to be the best hut in 
the hamlet, nor was she deprived of her clothes. A 
sort of bournouse or haik, of coarse texture and very 
dirty, was given to each of the others, and some rye 
cakes baked in the ashes. Poor little Estelle turned 
away her head at first, but Hdbert, alarmed at her 
shivering in her wet clothes, contrived to make her 
swallow a little, and then took off the soaked dress, 
and wrapped her in the bournouse. She was by this 
time almost unconscious from weariness, and made 
no resistance to tlie unaccustomed hands, or the dis- 
gusting coarseness and unclean ness of her wrapper, 
but dropped asleep the moment he laid her down, 
and he applied himself to trying to dry her clothes 
at a little fire of sticks that had been lighted outside 
the open space, round which the huts stood. 

The abbe, too, had fallen asleep, as Hebert managed 
to assure poor Lanty, who rushed out of the other 
hut, nearly naked, and bloodstained in many places, 
but more concerned at his separation from his foster- 
brother than at anything else that had befallen him. 
Men, women, children, and dogs were all after him, 
supposing him to be trying to escape, and he was 
seized upon and dragged back by main force, but not 
before the steward had called out — 

‘‘M. PAbbe sleeps — sleeps sound — he is not hurt! 
For Heaven’s sake, Laurent, be quiet — do not enrage 
them! It is the only hope for him, as for mademoi- 
selle and the rest of us.” 

Lanty, on hearing of the abbe’s safety, allowed him- 
self to be taken back, making himself, however, a pas- 
sive dead weight on his captor’s hands. 

6 


83 


A MODERN TELEMACIIUS. 


“ Arrah,’’ he muttered to hiiuself, ‘‘if ye will have 
me, ye shall have the throuble of me, bad luck to you. 
’Tis little like ye are to the barbarous people St. Paul 
was thrown with ; but then, what right have I to ex- 
pect the treatment of a holy man, the like of him ? 
If so be I can save that poor orphan that’s left, and 
bring off Master Phelim safe, and save poor Yictorine 
from being taken for some dirty spalpeen’s wife, 
when he has half a dozen more to the fore — ’tis little 
it matters what becomes of Lant}^ Callaghan ; they 
might give him to their big brutes of dogs, and mighty 
lean meat they would find him !” 

So came down the first night upon the captives. 


CHAPTEE Y. 


CAPTIVITY. 

“ Hold fast thy hope and Heaven will not 
Forsake thee in thine hour. 

Good angels will be near thee, 

And evil ones will fear thee, 

And Faith will give thee power.” 

— Southey. 

The whole northern coast of Africa is inhabited by 
a medley of tribes, all owning a kind of subjection 
to the sultan, but more in the sense of pope than of 
king. The part of the coast where the tartan had 
been driven on the rocks was beneath Mount Araz, a 
spur of the Atlas, and was in the possession of the 
Arab tribe called Cabeleyze, which is said to mean 
“ the revolted.” The revolt had been from the Al- 
gerine power, which had never been able to pursue 
them into the fastnesses of the mountains, and they 
remained a wild, independent race, following all those 
Ishmaelite traditions and customs that are innate in 
the blood of the Arab. 

When Estelle awoke from her long sleep of ex- 
haustion she was conscious of a stifling atmosphere, 
and, moreover, of the crow of a cock in her immediate 
vicinity, then of a dog growling, and a lamb beginning 
to bleat. She raised herself a little, and beheld, lying 
on the ground around her, dark heaps with human feet 
protruding from them. These were interspersed with 
sheep, goats, dogs, and fowls, all seen by the yellow 


84 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


light of the rising sun, which made its way in, not 
only through the doorless aperture, but through the 
reeds and branches which formed the walls. | 

Close as the air was, she felt the chill of the morn-, 
ing and shivered. At the same moment she per- 
ceived poor Maitre Hebert covering himself as best 
he could with a dirty brown garment, and bending, 
over her with much solicitude, but making signs to 
make as little noise as possible, while he whispered, 
“How goes it with mademoiselle?” 

“ Ah,” said Estelle, recollecting herself, “ we are 
shipwrecked. We shall have to confess our faith! 
Where are the rest ?” 

“ There is M. PAbbe,” said Hebert, pointing to a 
white pair of the bare feet. “ Poor Laurent and 
Yictorine have been carried elsewhere.” 

“And mamma? And my brother?” 

“ Ah ! mademoiselle, give the good God thanks 
that he has spared them our trial.” 

“ Mamma ! Ah, she was in the cabin when the 
water came in ? But my brother ! I had hold of his 
hand, he came out with me. 1 saw M. Arture swim 
away with him. Yes, Maitre Hebert, indeed I did.” 

I Hebert had not the least hope that they could be 
isaved, but he would not grieve the child by saying 
so, and his present object was to get her dressed be- 
fore any one was awake to watch, and perhaps appro- 
priate her upper garments. He was a fatherly old 
man, and she let him help her with her fastenings, 
and comb out her hair with the tiny comb in her 
Hui. Indeed, were the rule in France, and 
she was not unused to male attendants at the toilet, 
so that she was not shocked at being left to his care. 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


85 


For tlie rest, the child had always dwelt in an 
imaginary world, a curious compound of the Lives of 
the Saints and of T61emaque. Martyrs and heroes 
alike had been shipwrecked, taken captive, and tor- 
mented ; and there was a certain sense of realized 
day-dream about her, as if she had become one of the 
number and must act up to her part. She asked 
Hebert if there were a Saint Estelle, what was the 
day of the month, and if she should be placed in the 
calendar if she never complained, do what these bar- 
barians might to her. She hoped she should hold 
out, for she would like to be able to help all whom 
she loved, poor papa and all. But it was hard that 
mamma, who was so good, could not be a martyr too ; 
but she was a saint in Paradise all the same, and thus 
Estelle made her little prayer in hope. There was 
no conceit or over-confidence in the tone, though of 
course the poor child little knew what she was ready 
to accept; but it was a spark of the martyr’s trust 
that gleamed in her eye, and gave her a sense of ex- 
altation that took off the sharpest edge of grief and 
fear. 

By this time, however, the animals were stirring, 
and with them the human beings who had lain down 
in their clothes. Peace was over; the abbe awoke, 
and began to call for Laurent and his clothes and his 
beads ; but this aroused tlie master of the house, who 
started up, and, threatening with a huge stick, roared 
at him what must have been orders to be quiet. 

Estelle indignantly flew between and cried, “ You 
shall not hurt my uncle.” 

The commanding gesture spoke for itself; and, 
besides, poor Phelim cowered behind her with an 


86 


A MODERN TELEIMACHUS. 


air that caused a word and sign to pass round, which 
the captives found was equivalent to innocent or 
imbecile ; and the Mohammedan respect and tender- 
ness for the demented spared him all further vio- 
lence or molestation, except that he was lost and 
miserable without the attentions of his foster-brother ; 
and indeed the shocks he had undergone seemed to 
have robbed him of much of the small degree of 
sense he had once possessed. 

Coming into the space before the doorway, Estelle 
found herself the object of universal gaze and aston- 
ishment, as her long, fair hair gleamed in the sun- 
shine, every one coming to touch it, and even pull it 
to see if it were real. She was a good deal frightened, 
but too high-spirited to show it more than slie could 
help, as the dark-skinned, bearded men crowded round 
with cries of wonder. The other two prisoners like- 
wise appeared : Yictorine looking wretchedly ill, and 
hardly able to hold up her head ; Lanty creeping 
towards the abbe, and trying to arrange his remnant 
of clothing. There was a short respite, while the 
Arabs, all turning eastward, chanted their morning 
devotions with a solemnity that struck their captives. 
The scene was a fine one, if there had been any heart 
to admire. The huts were placed on the verge of a 
fine forest of chestnut and cork trees, and beyond 
towered up mountain-peaks in every variety of daz- 
zling color — red and purple beneath, glowing red and 
gold where the snowy peaks caught the morning sun, 
lately broken from behind them. The slopes around 
were covered with rich grass, fiourishing after the 
summer heats, and to which the herds were now be- 
taking themselves, excepting such as were detained 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


87 


to be milked by the women, who came pouring out 
of some of the other huts in dark-blue garments; 
and in front, still shadowed by the mountain, lay 
the bay, deep, beautiful, pellucid green near the land, 
and shut in by fantastic and picturesque rocks — 
some bare, some clothed with splendid foliage, 
winter though it was— while beyond lay the exqui- 
site blue stretching to the horizon. Little recked 
the poor prisoners of the scene so fair; they only 
saw the remnant of the wreck below, the sea that 
parted them from hope, the savage rocks behind, the 
barbarous people around, the squalor and dirt of the 
adowara, as the hamlet was called. 

Comparatively, the Moor who had swum ashore 
to reconnoitre seemed like a friend when he came 
forward and saluted Estelle and the abbe respect- 
fully. Moreover, the lingua Franca Lanty had 
picked up established a very imperfect double sys- 
tem of interpretation by the help of many gestures. 
This was Lanty’s explanation to the rest: in French, 
of course, but, like all his speech, Irish-Englisli in 
construction. 

‘‘This Moor, Hassan, wants to stand our friend 
in his own fashion, but he says they care not the 
value of an empty mussel-shell for the French, and 
no more for the Dey of Algiers than I do for the 
Elector of Hanover. He has told them that M. 
I’Abbe and mademoiselle are brother and daughter 
to a great bey — but it is little they care for that. 
Holy Virgin, they took mademoiselle for a boy ! 
That is why they are gazing at her so impudently. 
Would that I could give them a taste of my cane! 
Do you see those broken walls, and a bit of a castle 


88 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


on yonder headland jutting out into the sea? They 
are bidding Hassan say that the French built that, 
and garrisoned it with the help of the dey ; but 
there fell out a w’ar, and these fellows, or their 
fathers, surprised it, sacked it, and carried off four 
hundred prisoners into slavery. Holy Mother de- 
fend us! Here are all the rogues coming to see 
what they will do with us!” 

For the open space in front of the huts, whence 
all the animals had now been driven, was becoming 
thronored with figures with the haik laid over their 
heads, spear or blunderbuss in hand, fine -bearing, 
and Sometimes truculent, though handsome, brown 
countenances. They gazed at the captives, and 
uttered what sounded like loud hurrahs or shouts; 
but after listening to Hassan, Lanty turned round 
trembling. ‘‘The miserables! Some are for sacri- 

O 

ficing us outright on the spot, but this decent man 
declares that he will make them sensible that their 
prophet was not out-and-out as bad as that. Never 
you fear, mademoiselle.” 

“ I am not afraid,” said Estelle, drawing up her 
head. “We shall be martyrs.” 

Lanty was engaged in listening to a moan from 
his foster-brother for food, and Hebert joined in 
observing that they might as well be sacrificed as 
starved to death ; whereupon the Irishman’s words 
and gesticulations induced the Moor to make repre- 
sentations which resulted in some dry pieces of 
samh cake, a few dates, and a gourd of water being 
brought by one of the women ; a scanty amount for 
the number, even though poor Yictorine was too ill 
to touch anything but the water; while the abbc 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


89 


seemed unable to understand that tlie servants durst 
not demand anything better, and devoured her share 
and a quarter of Lantj’s as well as his own. Mean- 
time the Cabelejzes had all ranged themselves in 
rows, cross-legged, on the ground, opposite to the 
five unfortunate captives, to sit in judgment on 
them. As they kept together in one group, happily 
in the shade of a hut, Yictorine, too faint and sick 
fully to know what was going on, lay with her head 
on the lap of her young mistress, who sat with her 
bright and strangely-fearless eyes confronting the 
wild figures opposite. 

Her uncle, frightened, though not comprehending 
the extent of his danger, crouched behind Lanty, 
wdio with Hebert stood somewhat in advance, the 
would-be guardians of the more helpless ones. 

There was an immense amount of deafening 
shrieking and gesticulating among the Arabs. 
Hassan was responding, and finally turned to Lanty, 
when the anxious watchers could perceive signs 
as if of paying down coin made interrogatively. 
“ Promise them anything, everything,” cried Hebert ; 
“M. le Comte would give his last sou — so would 
Madame la Marquise — to save mademoiselle.” 

“I have tuld him so,” said Laurence, presently; 
“I bade him let them know it is little they can 
make of us, specially now they have stripped us 
as bare as themselves, the rascals! but that their 
fortunes would be made — and little they would know 
what to do with them — if they would only send 
M. PAbbd and mademoiselle' to Algiers safe and 
sound. There I he is trying to insense them. Never 
fear. Master Phelim, dear, there never was a rogue 


00 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


yet, black or white, or the color of poor madaine’s 
frothed chocolate, who did not love gold better than 
blood, unless indeed ’twas for the sweet morsel of 
revenge ; and these, for all their rolling, eyes and 
screeching tongues, have not the ghost of a quarrel 
with us.” 

“ My beads, my breviary,” sighed the abbd. “ Get 
them for me, Lanty.” 

“ I wish they would end it quickly,” said Estelle. 
“My head aches so, and I want to be with mamma. 
Poor Yictorine! yours is worse,” she added, and 
soaked her handkerchief in the few drops of water 
left in the gourd to lay it on the maid’s forehead. 

The howling and shrieking betokened consulta- 
tion, but was suddenly interrupted by some half- 
grown lads, who came running in with their hands 
full of what Lanty recognized to his horror as gar- 
ments worn by his mistress and fellow-servants, 
also a big kettle and a handspike. They pointed 
down to the sea, and with yells of haste and exulta- 
tion all the wild conclave started up to snatch, handle, 
and examine, then began rushing headlong to the 
beach. Hassan’s explanations were scarcely needed 
to show that they were about to ransack the ship, 
and he evidently took credit to himself for having 
induced them to spare the prisoners in case their 
assistance should be requisite to gain full possession 
of the plunder. 

Estelle and Yictorine were committed to the 
charge of a forbidding-looking old hag, the mother 
of the sheik of the party ; the abbe was allowed to 
stray about as he pleased, but the two men were 
driven to the shore by the eloquence of the club. 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


91 


Yictorine revived enongh for a burst of tears and a 
sobbing cry, ‘‘Oh, they will be killed! We shall 
never see them again 1” 

“No,’’ said Estelle, with her quiet yet childlike 
resolution, “ they are not going to kill any of us 3’et. 
They said so. You are so tired, poor Yictorine! 
Now all the hubbub is over, suppose you lie still 
and sleep. My uncle,” as he roamed round her, 
mourning for his rosary, “I am afraid your beads 
are lost ; but see here, these little round seeds, I can 
pierce them if you will gather some more for me, 
and make you another set. See, these will be the 
aves, and here are shells in the grass for the paters.” 

The long fibre of grass served for the string, and 
the sight of the Giaour girl’s employment brought 
round her all the female population who had not 
repaired to the coast. Her first rosary was torn 
from her to adorn an almost naked baby ; but the 
abbe began to whimper, and to her surprise the 
mother restored it to him. She then made signs 
that she would construct another necklace for the 
child, and she was rewarded by a gourd being 
brought to her full of milk, which she was able to 
share with her two companions, and which did 
something to revive poor Yictorine. Estelle was 
kept threading these necklaces and bracelets all the 
wakeful hours of the day — for every one fell asleep 
about noon — though still so jealous a watch was 
kept on her that she was hardly allowed to shift 
her position so as to get out of the sun, which even 
at that season was distressingly scorching in the mid- 
dle of the day. 

Parties were continually coming up from the 


92 


A MODERN TELEMACllUS. 


beach laden with spoils of all kinds from the wreck, 
Lanty, Hebert, and a couple of negroes being driven 
up repeatedly, so heavily burdened as to be almost 
bent double. All was thrown down in a heap at- 
the other end of the adowara, and the old sheik 
kept guard over it, allowing no one to touch it. 
This went on till darkness was coming on, when, 
while the cattle were being collected for the night, 
the prisoners were allowed an interval, in which 
Hdbert and Lanty told how the natives, swimming 
like ducks, had torn everything out of the wreck : 
all the bales and boxes that poor Maitre Hebert had 
secured with so much care, and many of which he 
w^as now forced himself to open for the pleasure of 
these barbarians. 

That, however, was not the worst. Hubert con- 
cealed from his little lady what Lanty did not spare 
Yictorine. “ And there — enough to melt the heart 
of a stone — there lay on the beach poor Madame la 
Comtesse, and all the three. Good was it for you, 
Yictorine, my jewel, that you were not in the cabin 
with them.” 

“I know not,” said the dejected Yictorine ; “they 
are better off than we ?” 

“You would not say so, if you had seen what I 
have,” said Lanty, shuddering. “ The dogs ! — they 
cut off madame’s poor white fingers to get at her 
rings, and not with knives either, lest her blessed 
flesh should defile them, they said, and her poor face 
was an angel’s all the time. Nay, nor that was not 
the worst. The villainous boys, what must they do 
but pelt the poor swollen bodies with stoned! Ay, 
well you may scream, Yictorine. We went down on 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


93 


onr knees, Maitre Hebert and I, to pray they might 
let us give them burial, but they mocked us, and bade 
Hassan say they never bury dogs. I went round the 
steeper path, for all the load at my back, or I should 
have been flying at the throats of the cowardly 
vultures, and then what would have become of M. 
I’Abbe ?” 

Yictorine trembled and wept bitterly for her com- 
panions, and then asked if Lanty had seen the corpse 
of the little chevalier. 

“H'ot a sight of him or M. Arthur either,” re- 
turned Lanty ; “ only the ugly face of the old Turk 
captain and another of his crew, and them they buried 
decently, being Moslem hounds like themselves; 
while my poor lady that is a saint in heaven — ” and 
he, too, shed tears of hot grief and indignation, re- 
covering enough to warn Victorine by no means to 
let the poor young girl know of this additional 
horror. 

There was little opportunity, for they had been 
appropriated by different masters : Estelle, the abbe, 
and Hebert to the sheik, or headman of the clan ; 
and Lanty and Victorine to a big, strong, fierce-look- 
ing fellow, of inferior degree but greater might. 

This time Estelle was to be kept for the Jiight 
among the sheik’s women, who, though too unsophis- 
ticated to veil their faces, had a part of the hut closed 
off with a screen of reeds, but quite as ba<re as the 
outside. Hebert, who could not endure to think of 
her sleeping on the ground, and saw a large heap of 
grass or straw provided for a little brown cow, en- 
deavored to take an armful f<n- her. Unluckily it 
belonged to Lanty ’s master, Eyonb, who instantly flew 


94 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


at him in a fury, dragged him to a log of wood, caught 
up an axe, and had not Estelle’s screams brought up 
the sheik, with Hassan and one or two other men, 
the poor maUre WMteVs head would have been off. 
There was a sharp altercation between the sheik and 
Eyoub, while Estelle held the faithful servant’s hand, 
saying, “You did it for me! Oh, Hebert, do not 
make them angry again. It would be beautiful to 
die for one’s faith, but not for a handful of hay.” 

“ Ah ! my dear demoiselle^ what would my poor 
ladies say to see you sleeping on the bare ground in 
a filthy hut?” 

“ I slept well last night,” returned Estelle ; “ in- 
deed, 1 do not mind 1 It is only the more like the 
dungeon at Lyons, you know 1 And I pray you, He- 
bert, do not get yourself killed for nothing too soon, 
or else we shall not all stand out and confess together, 
like St. Blandina and St. Ponticus and St. Epaga- 
thius.” 

“ Alas, the dear child 1 The long names run off 
her tongue as glibly as ever,” sighed Hebert, who, 
though determined not to forsake his faith, by no 
means partook of her enthusiasm for martyrdom. 
Hassan, however, having explained what the purpose 
had been, Hebert was pardoned, though the sheik 
scornfully observed that what was good enough for 
the daughters of a Hadji was good enough for the 
unclean child of the Frankish infidels. 

The hay might perhaps have spared a little stiff- 
ness, but it would not have ameliorated the chief an- 
noyances — the closeness, the dirt, and the vermin. It 
was well that it was winter, or the first of these would 
have been far worse, and, fortunately for Estelle, she 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


95 


was one of those whom suffocating air rather lulls 
than rouses. 

Eyoub’s hovel did not rejoice in the refinement of 
a partition, hut his family, together with their ani- 
mals, lay on the rocky fioor as best they might 5. and 
Yictorine’s fever came on again, so that she lay in 
great misery, greeted by a growl from a great white 
dog whenever she tried to relieve her restless, aching 
limbs by the slightest movement, or to reach one of 
the gourds of water laid near the sleepers, like Saul’s 
cruse at his pillow. 

Towards morning, however, Lanty, who had been 
sitting with his back against the wall, awoke from 
the sleep well earned by acting as a beast of burden. 
The dog growled a little, but Lanty — though his leg 
still showed its teeth-marks — had made friends witli 
it, and his hand on its head quieted it directly, so that 
he was able cautiously to hand a gourd to Yictorine. 
The Arabs were heavy sleepers, and the two were 
able to talk under their breath ; as, in reply to a kind 
w’ord from Lanty, poor Yictorine moaned her envy 
of the fate of Rosette and Babette; and he, witli 
something of their little mistress’s spirit, declared that 
he had no doubt but that “one way or the other 
they should be out of it : either get safe home, or 
be blessed martyrs, without even a taste of purga- 
tory.” 

“ Ah ! but there’s worse for me,” sighed Yictorine. 
“ This demon brought another to stare in my face — 
I know he wants to make me his wife! Kill me 
first, Laurent.” 

“ It is I that would rather espouse you, my jewel,” 
returned a tender whisper. 


96 


A MODEKN TELEMACliUS. 


“ How can you talk of such things at such a mo- 
ment?” 

“ ’Tjs a pity M. rAbb4 is not a priest,” sighed 
Lanty. “ But, you know, Yictorine, who is the boy 
you always meant to take.” 

“You need not be so sure of that,” she said, the 
coy coquetry not quite extinct. 

“Come, as you said, it is no time for fooling. 
Give me your word and troth to be my wife so soon 
as we have the good luck to come by a Christian 
priest by our Lady’s help, and I’ll outface them all — 
w'ere it Mohammed the prophet himself, that you are 
my espoused and betrothed, and woe to him that puts 
a linger on you.” 

“ You would only get yourself killed.” 

“ And would not I be proud to be killed for your 
sake ? Besides, I’ll show them cause not to kill me 
if I have the chance. Trust me, Victorine, my dar- 
ling — it is but a chance among these murdering vil- 
lains, but it is the only one ; and, sure, if you pre- 
tended to turn the back of your hand to me when 
there were plenty of Christian men to compliment 
you, yet you would rather have poor Lanty than a 
thundering rogue of a pagan Mohammedan.” 

“ I hope I shall die,” sighed poor Yictorine, faintly. 
“ It will only be your death !” 

“ That is my affair,” responded Lanty. “ Come, 
here’s daylight coming in ; reach me your hand be- 
fore this canaille wakes, and here’s this good beast 
of a dog, and yonder grave old goat with a face like 
P^re Michel’s for our witnesses — and by good-luck, 
here’s a bit of gilt wire off my shoulder-knot that I’ve 
made into a couple of rings while I’ve been speaking.” 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


97 


The strange betrothal had barely taken place be- 
fore there was a stir, and what was no doubt a yell- 
ing imprecation on the “dog Giaours’’ for the noise 
they made. 

The morning began as before, with the exception 
that Estelle had established a certain understanding 
with a little chocolate-colored cupid of a boy of the 
size of her brother, and his lesser sister, by letting 
them stroke her hair, and showing them the mys- 
teries of cat’s-cradle. They shared their gourd of 
goat’s-milk with her, but would not let her give any 
to her companions. However, the abbd had only to 
hold out his hand to be fed, and the others were far 
too anxious to care much about their food. 

A much larger number of Cabeleyzes came stream- 
ing into the forum of the adowara, and the prisoners 
were all again placed in a row, while the new-comers 
passed before them, staring hard, and manifestly 
making personal remarks which perhaps it was well 
that they did not understand. The sheik and Eyoub 
evidently regarded them as private property, stood 
in front, and permitted nobody to handle them, which 
was so far a comfort. 

Then followed a sort of council, with much gesticu- 
lation, in which Hassan took his share. Then, fol- 
lowed by the sheik, Eyoub, and some other headmen, 
he advanced, and demanded that the captives should 
become true believers. This was eked out with ges- 
tures betokening that they would be free in that 
case ; while, if they refused, the sword and the smoul- 
dering flame were pointed to, while the whole host 
loudly shouted “Islam !” 

Yictorine trembled, sobbed, tried to hide herself ; 

7 


98 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


but Estelle stood up, her young face lighted up, her 
dark eyes gleaming, as if she were realizing a day- 
dream, as she shook her head, cried out to Lanty, 
“ Tell him, no — never!” and held to her breast a lit- 
tle cross of sticks that she had been forming to com- 
plete her uncle’s rosary. Her gesture was understood. 
A man better clad than the rest, with a turban and a 
broad crimson sash, rushed up to her, seized her by 
the hair, and waved his scimitar over her head. The 
child felt herself close to her mother. She looked 
up in his face with radiant eyes and a smile on her 
lips. It absolutely daunted the fellow : his arm 
dropped, and he gazed at her as at some supernatural 
creature ; and the sheik, enraged at the interference 
with his property, darted forth to defend it, and there 
was a general wrangling. 

Seconded by their interpreter, Hassan, who knew 
that the Koran did not prescribe the destruction of 
Christians, Hebert and Lanty endeavored to show 
that their conversion was out of the question, and 
that their slaughter would only be the loss of an ex- 
ceedingly valuable ransom, which would be paid if 
they were handed over safe and sound and in good 
condition. 

There was no knowing what was the effect of this, 
for the council again ended in a rush to secure the 
remaining pillage of the wreck. Hebert and Lanty 
dreaded what they might see, but to their great re- 
lief those poor remains had disappeared. They shud- 
dered as they remembered the hyenas’ laughs and 
the jackals’ howls they had heard at nightfall ; but 
though they hoped that the sea had been merciful, 
they could even have been grateful to the animals 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


that had spared them the sight of conscious in- 
sults. 

The wreck was finally cleared, and among the frag- 
ments were found several portions of books. These 
the Arabs disregarded, being too ignorant even to 
read their own Koran, and yet aware of the Moham- 
medan scruple which forbids the destruction of any 
scrap of paper lest it should bear the name of Allah. 
Lanty secured the greater part of the abbe’s breviary, 
and a good many pages of Estelle’s beloved T^l^- 
maque; while the steward gained possession of his 
writing-case, and was permitted to retain it when the 
Cabeleyzes, glutted with plunder, had ascertained that 
it contained nothing of value to them. 

After everything had been dragged up to the 
adowara there ensued a sort of auction or division 
of the plunder. Poor Maitre Hebert was doomed to 
see the boxes and bales he had so diligently watched 
broken open by these barbarians — nay, he had to as- 
sist in their own dissection when the secrets were 
too much for the Arabs. There was the King of 
Spain’s portrait rent from its costly setting and 
stamped upon as an idolatrous image. The minia- 
ture of the count, worn by the poor lady, had pre- 
viously shared the same fate, but that happily was 
out of sight and knowledge. Here was the splendid 
plate, presented by crowned heads, howled over by 
savages ignorant of its use. ' The silver they seemed 
to value; but there were three precious gold cups 
which the salt water had discolored, so that they were 
taken for copper and sold for a very small price to a 
Jew, who somehow was attracted to the scene, “ like 
a raven to the slaughter,” said Lanty. 


100 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


This man likewise secured some of the poor lady’s 
store of rich dresses, but a good many more were 
appropriated to make sashes for the men, and the 
smaller articles, including stockings, were wound tur- 
ban fashion round the children’s heads. 

Lanty could not help observing, “ And if the saints 
are merciful to us, and get us out of this, we shall 
have stories to tell that will last our lives!” as he 
watched the solemn old chief smelling at the per- 
fumes, swallowing the rouge as splendid medicine, 
and finally fingering a snuff-box, while half a dozen 
more crowded round to assist in the opening, and in 
another moment sneezing, weeping, tingling, dancing 
frantically about, vituperating the Christian’s magic. 

This gave Lanty an idea. A little round box lay 
near, which, as he remembered, contained a Jack-in- 
the-box, or Polichinelle, which the poor little cheva- 
lier had bought at the fair at Tarascon. This he con- 
trived to secrete and hand to Yictorine. “ Keep the 
secret,” he said, “ and you will find your best guar- 
dian in that bit of a box.” And when, that very 
evening, an Arab showed some intentions of add- 
ing her to his harem, Yictorine bethought herself of 
the box, and unhooked in desperation. Up sprang 
Punch, long-nosed and fur-capped, right in the bearded 
face. 

Back the man almost fell ; “ Shaitan, Shaitan !” 
was the cry, as the inhabitants tumbled pell-mell out 
of the hovel, and Yictorine and Punch remained 
masters of the situation. 

She heard Lanty haranguing in broken Arabic and 
lingua Franca^ and presently he came in, shaking 
with suppressed laughter. “ If ever we get home,” 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


101 


said he, “ we’ll make a pilgrimage to Tarascon t Bless- 
ings on good St. Martha that put that sweet little 
imp in my way ! The rogues think he is the very 
genie that the fisherman let out of the bottle in 
mademoiselle’s book of the Thousand and One 
Nights, and thought to see him towering over the 
whole place. And a fine figure he would be, with 
his hook nose and long beard. They sent me to beg 
you fairly to put up your little Shaitan again. I 
told them that Shaitan, as they call him, is always in 
it when there’s meddling between an espoused pair — 
which is as true as though the holy father at Kome 
had said it — and as long as they were civil, Shaitan 
would rest ; but if they durst molest you, there was 
no saying where he would be, if once you had to let 
him out ! To think of the virtue of that ugly face 
and bit of a coil of wire !” 

Meantime Hebert, having ascertained that both 
the Jew and Hassan were going away, the one to 
Constantina the other to Algiers, wrote, and so did 
Estelle, to the consul at Algiers, explaining their po- 
sition and entreating to be ransomed. Though only 
nine years old, Estelle could write a very fair letter, 
and the amazement of the Arabs was unbounded that 
any female ci eature should wield a pen. Marabouts 
and merchants were known to read the Koran, but 
if one of the goats had begun to write, their wonder 
could hardly have been greater; and such crowds 
came to witness the extraordinary operation that she 
could scarcely breathe or see. 

It seemed to establish her in their estimation as a 
sort of supernatural being, for she was always treated 
with more consideration than the rest of the captives. 


102 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


never deprived of the clothes she wore, and allowed 
to appropriate a few of the toilet necessaries that 
were quite incomprehensible to those around her. 

She learned the names for bread, chestnuts, dates, 
milk, and water, and these were never denied to her ; 
and her little ingenuities in nursery games won the 
good-will of the women and children around her, 
though others used to come and make ugly faces at 
her, and cry out at her as an unclean thing. The 
abbe was allowed to wander about at will, and keep 
his Hours, with Estelle to make the responses, and 
sometimes Hebert. He was the only one that might 
visit the other two captives; Lanty was kept 'hard at 
work over the crop of chestnuts that the clan had 
come down from their mountains to gather in ; and 
poor Yictorine, who was consumed by a low fever, 
and almost too weak to move, lay all day in the dreary 
and dirty hut, expecting, but dreading death. 

Some days later there was great excitement, shout- 
ing, and rage. It proved that the Bey of Constan- 
tina had sent to demand the party, threatening to 
send an armed force to compel their surrender ; but, 
alas! the hope of a return to comparative civiliza- 
tion was instantly quashed, for the sheik showed 
himself furious. He and Eyoub stood brandishing 
their scimitars, and with eyes flashing like a panther’s 
in the dark, declaring that they were free, no sub- 
jects of the dey nor the bey either; and that they 
would shed the blood of every one of the captives 
rather than yield them to the dogs and sons of dogs 
at Constantina. 

This embassy only increased the jealousy with 
which the prisoners were guarded. None of them 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


103 


were allowed to stir without a man with a halberd, 
and they had the greatest difficulty in intrusting a 
third letter to the Moor in command of the party. 
Indeed, it was only managed by Estelle’s coaxing of 
the little Abou Daoiid, who was growing devoted to 
her, and would do anything for the reward of hear- 
ing her sing Malbrook s'en va-t'^-en guerre. 

It might have been in consequence of this threat 
of the bey, much as they affected to despise it, that 
the Cabeleyzes prepared to return to the heights of 
Mount Araz, whence they had only descended dur- 
ing the autumn to find fresh pasture for their cattle, 
and to collect dates and chestnuts from the forest. 

“ Alas !” said Hebert, “ this is worse than ever. 
As long as we were near the sea I had hope, but 
now all trace of us will be lost, even if the consul 
should send after us.” 

“Never fear, Maitre Hebert,” said Estelle; “you 
know Tdlemaque was a prisoner and tamed the wild 
peasants in Egypt.” 

“ Ah ! the poor demoiselle, she always seems as if 
she were acting a comedy.” 

This was happily true. Estelle seemed to be in a 
curious manner borne through the dangers and dis- 
comforts of her surroundings by a strange, dreamy 
sense of living up to her part, sometimes as a possi- 
ble martyr, sometimes as a figure in the mythologi- 
cal or Arcadian romance that had filtered into her 
nursery. 


CHAPTEK VI. 


A MOORISH VILLAGE. 

“ Our laws and our worship on thee thou shalt take, 

And this shalt thou first do for Zulema’s sake.” — S cott. 

When Arthur Hope dashed back from the party 
on the prow of the wrecked tartan in search of lit- 
tle Ulysse, he succeeded in grasping the child, but at 
the same moment a huge breaker washed him off 
the slipperily-sloping deck, and after a scarce con- 
scious struggle he found himself, still retaining his 
clutch of the boy, in the trough between it and 
another. He was happily an expert swimmer, and 
holding the little fellow’s clothes in his teeth, he 
was able to avoid the dash, and to rise on another 
wave. Then he perceived that he was no longer 
near the vessel, but had been carried out to some lit- 
tle distance, and his efforts only succeeded in keep- 
ing afloat, not in approaching the shore. Happily a 
plank drifted so near him that he was able to seize 
it and throw himself across it, thus obtaining some 
support, and being able to raise the child farther 
above the water. 

At the same time he became convinced that a 
strong current, probably from a river or stream, was 
carrying him out to sea, away from the bay. He 
saw the black heads of two or three of the Moorish 
crew likewise floating on spars, and yielding them- 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


105 


selves to tbe stream, and this made him better satis- 
fied to follow their example. It was a sort of rest, 
and gave him time to recover from the first exhaus- 
tion, to convince himself that the little boy was not 
dead, and to lash him to the plank with a handker- 
chief. 

By and by — he knew not how soon — calls and 
shouts passed between the Moors ; only two seemed 
to survive, and they no longer obeyed the direction 
of the current, but turned resolutely towards the 
land, where Arthur dimly saw a green valley open- 
ing towards the sea. This was a much severer ef- 
fort, but by this time immediate self-preservation had 
become the only thought, and happily both wind and 
the very slight tide were favorable, so that, just as 
the sun sank beneath the western waves, Arthur felt 
foothold on a sloping beach of white sand, even as 
his powers became exhausted. He struggled up out 
of reach of the sea, and then sank down, exhausted 
and unconscious. 

His first impression was of cries and shrieks round 
him, as he gasped and panted, then saw as in a dream 
forms flitting round him, and then — feeling for the 
child and missing him — he raised himself in conster- 
nation, and the movement was greeted by fresh un- 
intelligible exclamations, while a not unkindly hand 
lifted him up. It belonged to a man in a sort of 
loose white garment and drawers, with a thin, dark- 
bearded face ; and Arthur, recollecting that the Span- 
ish word nino passed current for child in lingua 
Franca^ uttered it with an accent of despairing anx- 
iety. He was answered with a volley of words that 
he only understood to be in a consoling tone, and 


106 A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 

the speaker pointed inland. Yarions persons, among 
whom Arthur saw his recent shipmates, seemed to 
be going in that direction, and he obeyed his guide, 
though scarcely able to move from exhaustion and 
cold, the garments he had retained clinging about 
him. Some one, however, ran down towards him 
with a vessel containing a draught of sour milk. 
This revived him enough to see clearly and follow 
his guides. After walking a distance, which ap- 
peared to him most laborious, he found himself en- 
tering a sort of village, and was ushered through a 
courtyard into a kind of room. In the centre a fire 
was burning; several figures were busy round it, and 
in another moment he perceived that they were rub- 
bing, chafing, and otherwise restoring his little com- 
panion. 

Indeed, Ulysse had just recovered enough to be 
terribly frightened, and as his friend’s voice answered 
his screams he sprang from the kind brown hands, 
and, darting on Arthur, clung to him with face hid- 
den on his shoulder. The women who had been at- 
tending to him fell back as the white stranger en- 
tered, and almost instantly dry clothes were brought, 
and while Arthur was warming himself and putting 
them on, a little table about a foot high was set, the 
contents of a cauldron of a kind of soup which had 
been suspended over the fire were poured into a large 
round green crock, and in which all were expected to 
dip their spoons and fingers. Little Ulysse was ex- 
ceedingly amazed, and observed that ces gens were 
not hien eleves to eat out of the dish ; but he was too 
hungry to make any objection to being fed with the 
wooden spoon that had been handed to Arthur ; and 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


107 


when the warm soup and the meat floating in it had 
refreshed them, signs were made to them to lie down 
on a mat within an open door, and both were worn 
out enough to sleep soundly. 

It was daylight when Arthur was awakened by 
poor little Ulysse sitting up and crying out for his 
honne, his mother, and sister, Oh ! take me to them,” 
he cried ; “ I do not like this dark place.” 

For dark the room was, being windowless, though 
the golden sunlight could be seen beyond the open 
doorway, which was under a sort of cloister or ve- 
randa overhung by some climbing plant. Arthur, 
collecting himself, reminded the child how the waves 
had borne them away from the rest, with earnest, 
soothing promises of care, and endeavoring to get 
back to the rest. ‘‘ Say your prayers that God will 
take care of you and bring you back to your sister,” 
Arthur added, for he did not think it possible that 
the child’s mother should have been saved from tlie 
waves ; and his heart throbbed at thoughts of his 
promise to the poor lady. 

“But I want my honne^'* sighed Ulysse; “I want 
my clothes. This is an ugly rohe de nuit^ and there 
is no bed.” 

“ Perhaps we can And your clothes,” said Arthur. 
“ They were too wet to be kept on last night.” 

So they emerged into the court, which had a kind 
of farmyard appearance ; women with rows of coins 
hanging over their brows were milking cows and 
goats, and there was a continuous confusion of sound 
of their voices and the lowing and bleating of cattle. 
At the appearance of Arthur and the boy there was 
a general shout, and people seemed to throng in to 


108 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


gaze at tliem,tlie men handsome, stately, and bearded, 
with white, full drawers, and a bournouse laid so as 
first to form a fiat hood over the head, and then belted 
in at the waist, with a more or less handsome sash, 
into which were stuck a spoon and knife, and in some 
cases one or two pistols. They did not seem ill-dis- 
posed, though their language was perfectly incom- 
prehensible. Ulysse’s clothes were lying dried by 
the hearth, and no objection was made to his resum- 
ing them. Arthur made gestures of washing or 
bathing, and was conducted outside the court, to a 
little stream of pure water descending rapidly to the 
sea. It was so cold that Ulysse screamed at the touch, 
as Arthur, with more spectators than he could have 
desired, did his best to perform their toilets. He 
had divested himself of most of his own garments 
for the convenience of swimming, but his pockets 
were left and a comb in them ; and, though poor 
Mademoiselle Julienne would have been shocked at 
the result of his efforts, and the little silken laced 
suit was sadly tarnished with sea- water, Ulysse be- 
came such an astonishing sight that the children 
danced round him, the women screamed with won- 
der, and the men said “ Mashallah !” The young 
Scotsman’s height was perhaps equally amazing, for 
he saw them pointing up to his head as if measuring 
his stature. 

He saw that he was in a village of low houses, with 
walls of unhewn stone, enclosing yards, and set in the 
midst of fruit-trees and gardens. Though so far on 
in the autumn there was a rich, luxuriant appearance; 
roots and fruits, corn and fiax, were laid out to dry, 
and girls and boys were driving the cattle out to 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


109 


pasture. He could not doubt that he had landed 
among a settled and not utterly uncivilized people, 
but he was too spent and weary to exert himself, or 
even to care for much beyond present safety ; and 
had no sooner returned to his former quarters, and 
shared with Ulysse a bowl of curds, than they both 
fell asleep again in the shade of the gourd plant 
trained on a trellised roof over the wall. 

When he next awoke Ulysse was very happily at 
play with some little brown children, as if the sports 
of childhood defied the curse of Babel, and a sailor 
from the tartan was being greeted by the master of 
the house. Arthur hoped that some communication 
would now be possible, but, unfortunately, the man 
knew very little of the lingua Franca of the Medi- 
terranean, and Arthur knew still less. However, he 
made out that he was the only one of the shipwrecked 
crew who had managed to reach the land, and that 
this was a village of Moors — settled agricultural 
Moors, not Arabs, good Moslems — who would do 
him no harm. This, and he pointed to a fine-look- 
ing elderly man, was the sheik of the village, Abou 
Ben Zegri, and if the young Giaours would conform 
to the true faith all would be salem with them. Ar- 
thur shook his head, and tried by word and sign to 
indicate his anxiety for the rest of his companions. 
The sailor threw up his hands and pointed towards 
the sea, to show that he believed them to be all lost ; 
but Arthur insisted that five— marking them off on 
his fingers — were on gela\ a rock, and emphatically 
indicated his desire of reaching them. The Moor re- 
turned the word Cabeleyzes,’’ with gestures signi- 
fying throat-cutting and slavery ; also that these preS’ 


110 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


ent hosts regarded them as banditti. How far off 
they were it was not possible to make out, for of 
course Arthur’s own sensations were no guide; but 
he knew that the wreck had taken place early in the 
afternoon, and that he had come on shore in the dusk, 
which was then at about five o’clock. There was. 
certainly a promontory, made by the ridge of a hill, 
and also a river between him and any survivors there 
might be. 

This was all that he could gather, and he was not 
sure of even this much, but he was still too much 
wearied and battered for any exertion of thought or 
even anxiety. Three days’ tempest in a cockle-shell 
of a ship, and then three hours’ tossing on a plank, 
had left him little but the desire of repose, and the 
Moors were merciful and let him alone. It was a 
beautiful place — that he already knew'. A Scot, and 
used to the sea-coast, his eye felt at home as it ranged 
to the grand heights in the dim distance, with win- 
ter caps of snow, and, shaded in the most gorgeous 
tints of coloring forests beneath, slopes covered with 
the exquisite green of young wheat. Autumn though 
it was, the orange-trees, laden with fruit, the cork- 
trees, ilexes, and fan-palms, gave plenty of greenery, 
shading the gardens w'ith prickly-pear hedges; and 
though many of the fruit-trees had lost their leaves, 
fig, peach, olive, and mulberry, caper plants, vines 
with foliage of every tint of red and purple, which 
were trained over the trellised courts of the houses, 
made everything have a look of rural plenty and 
peace, most unlike all that Arthur had ever heard or 
imagined of the Moors, who, as he owned to himself, 
were certainly not all savage pirates and slave-drivers. 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


Ill 


The whole within was surrounded by a stone wall, 
with a deep, horseshoe-arched gateway, the fields and 
pastures lying beyond with some more slightly-walled 
enclosures meant for the protection of the fiocks and 
herds at night. 

He saw various arts going on. One man was work- 
ing in iron over a little charcoal fire, with a boy to 
blow up his bellows, and several more were busied 
over some pottery, while the women alternated their 
grinding between two millstones, and other domestic 
cares, with spinning, weaving, and beautiful embroid- 
ery. To Arthur, who looked on, with no one to 
speak to except little Ulysse, it was strangely like 
seeing the life of the Israelites in the Old Testament 
when they dwelt under their own vines ‘and fig-trees 
— like reading a chapter in the Bible, as he said to 
himself, as again and again he saw some allusion to 
Eastern customs illustrated. He was still more struck 
— when, after the various herds of kine, sheep, and 
goats, with one camel, several asses, and a few slen- 
der-limbed Barbary horses had been driven in for the 
night — by the sight of the population, as the sun 
sank behind the mountains, all suspending whatever 
they were about, spreading their prayer-carpets, turn- 
ing eastward, performing their ablutions, and utter- 
ing their brief prayer with one voice so devoutly that 
he was almost struck with awe. 

“Are they saying their prayers?” whispered 
Ulysse, startled by the instant change in his play- 
fellows, and as ArtMr acquiesced, “ Then they are 
good.” 

“ If it were the true faith,” said Arthur, thinking 
of the wide difference between this little fellow and 


112 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


Estelle ; but though not two years younger, Ulysse 
was far more childish than his sister, and when she 
was no longer present to lead him with her enthusi- 
asm, sank at once to his own level. He opened 
wide his eyes at Arthur’s reply, and said, “ I do not 
see their idols.” 

“ They have none,” said Arthur, who could not 
help thinking that Ulysse might look nearer home 
for idols — but chiefly concerned at the moment to 
keep the child quiet, lest he should bring danger on 
them by interruption. 

They were sitting in the embowered porch of 
the sheik’s court when, a few seconds after the 
villagers had risen up from their prayer, they saw 
a flgure enter at the village gateway, and the sheik 
rise and go forward. There were low bending in 
salutation, hands placed on the breast, then kisses 
exchanged, after which the Sheik Abou Ben Zegri 
w’ent out with the stranger, and great excitement 
and pleasure seemed to prevail among the villagers, 
especially the women. Arthur heard the word 
“Yusuf” often repeated, and by the time darkness 
had fallen on the village the sheik ushered the 
guest into his court, bringing with him a donkey 
with some especially precious load — which was re- 
moved ; after which the supper was served as before 
in the large, low apartment, with a handsomely-tiled 
floor, and an opening in the roof for the issue of the 
smoke from the Are, which became agreeable in the 
evening at this season. Before supper, however, the 
stranger’s feet and hands were washed by a black 
slave, in Eastern fashion ; and then all^ as before, sat 
on mats or cushions round the central bowl, each be- 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


113 


ing furnished with a spoon and a thin, flat, soft piece 
of bread to dip into the mess of stewed kid, flakes of 
which might be extracted with the fingers.. 

The women, who had fastened a piece of linen 
across their faces, ran about and waited on the guests, 
who included three or four of the principal men of 
the village, as well as the stranger, who, as Arthur 
observed, was not of the uniform brown of the rest, 
but had some color in his cheeks, light eyes, and a 
ruddy beard, and also was of a larger frame than 
these Moors, who, though graceful, lithe, and exceed- 
ingly stately and dignified, hardly reached above 
young Hope’s own shoulder. Conversation was go- 
ing on all the time, and Arthur soon perceived that 
he was the subject of it. As soon as the meal was 
over the new-comer addressed him, to his great joy, 
in French. It was the worst French imaginable — 
perhaps more correctly lingua Franca^ with a French 
instead of an Arabic foundation — but it was more 
comprehensible than that of the Moorish sailor, and 
bore some relation to a civilized language; besides 
which there was something indescribably familiar in 
the tone of voice, although Arthur’s good French 
often missed of being comprehended. 

“Son of a great man? Ambassador, French !” 
The greatness seemed impressed, but whether ambas- 
sador was understood was another thing, though it 
was accepted as relating to the boy. 

‘‘Secretary to the ambassador” seemed to be an 
equal problem. The man shook his head, but he took 
in better the story of the wreck, though, like the sailor, 
he shook his head over the chance of there being any 
survivors, and utterly negatived the idea of joining 
8 


114 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


them. The great point that Arthur tried to impress 
was that there would be a very considerable ransom 
if the child could be conveyed to Algiers, and he en- 
deavored to persuade the stranger, who was evident- 
ly a sort of travelling merchant, and, as he began to 
suspect, a renegade, to convey them thither; but he 
only got shakes of the head as answers, and something 
to the effect that they were a good deal out of the 
dey’s reach in those parts, together with what he 
feared M^as an intimation that they were altogether in 
the power of Sheik Abou Ben Zegri. 

They were interrupted by a servant of the mer- 
chant, who came to bring him some message as well 
as a pipe and tobacco. The pipe was carried by a 
negro boy, at sight of whom Ulysse gave a cry of 
ecstasy, ‘‘ Juba ! Juba! Grandmother’s Juba 1 Wliy 
do not you speak to me ?” as the little black, no bigger 
than Ulysse himself, grinned with all his white teeth, 
quite uncomprehending. 

“Ah! my poor laddie,” exclaimed Arthur in his 
native tongue, which he often used with the boy, “it 
is only another negro. You are far enough from 
home.” 

The words had an astonishing effect on the mer- 
chant. He turned round with the exclamation, 
“Ye’ll be frae Scotland!” 

“ And so are you !” cried Arthur, holding out his 
hand. 

“Tak tent, tak tent,” said the merchant, hastily, 
yet with a certain hesitation, as though speaking a 
long unfamiliar tongue. “ The loons might jalouse 
our being overfriendly thegither.” 

Then he returned to the sheik, to whom he seemed 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


115 


to be making explanations, and presenting some of 
bis tobacco, which probably was of a superior quality 
in preparation to what was grown in the village. 
They solemnly smoked together and conversed, while 
Arthur watched them anxiously, relieved that he had 
found an interpreter, but very doubtful whether a 
renegade could be a friend, even though he were in- 
deed a fellow-countryman. 

It was not till several pipes had been consumed, 
and the village worthies had, with considerable cere- 
mony, taken leave, that the merchant again spoke to 
Arthur. “I’ll see ye the morn; I hae toll’d the 
sheik we are frae the same parts. Maybe I can 
serve you, if ye ken what’s for your guid, but I canna 
say mair the noo.” 

The sheik escorted him out of the court, for he 
slept in one of the two striped horse-hair tents which 
had been spread within the enclosures belonging to 
the village, around which were tethered the mules 
and asses that carried his wares. Arthur meanwhile 
arranged his little charge for the night. He felt that 
among these enemies to their faith he must do what 
was in his power to keep up that of the child, and not 
allow his prayers to be neglected ; but, not being able 
to repeat the Latin forms, and thinking them un- 
profitable to the boy himself, he prompted the saying 
of the Creed and Lord’s Prayer in English, and caused 
them to be repeated after him, though very sleepily 
and imperfectly. 

All the men of the establishment seemed to take 
their night’s rest on a mat, wrapped in a bournouse, 
wherever they chanced to find themselves, provided 
it was under shelter; the women in qoiwq ^ penetralia 


116 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


beyond a doorway, though they were not otherwise 
secluded, and only partially veiled their faces at sight 
of a stranger. Arthur had by this time made out 
that the sheik, who was a very handsome man over 
middle-age, seemed to have two wives ; one probably 
of his own age, and, though withered up into a brown 
old mummy, evidently the ruler at home, wearing the 
most ornaments, and issuing her orders in a shrill, 
cracked tone. There was a much younger and hand- 
some one, the mother apparently of two or three lit- 
tle girls from ten or twelve years old to five, and 
there was a mere girl, with beautiful, melancholy, 
gazelle-like eyes, and a baby in her arms. She wore 
no ornaments, but did not seem to be classed with 
the slaves who ran about at the commands of the 
elder dame. 

However, his own position was a matter of much 
more anxious care, although he had more hope of dis- 
covering what it really was. 

He had, however, to be patient. The sunrise ori- 
sons were no sooner paid than there was a continual 
resort to the tent of the merchant, who was found sit- 
ting there calmly smoking his long pipe, and ready to 
offer the like, also a cup of coffee, to all who came to 
traffic with him. He seemed to have a miscellaneous 
stock of coffee, tobacco, pipes, preparations of sugar, 
ornaments in gold and silver, jewelry, charms, pis- 
tols, and a host of other articles in stock, and to be 
ready to purchase or barter these for the wax, em- 
broidered handkerchiefs, yarn, and other productions 
and manufactures of the place. Not a single pur- 
chase could be made on either side without a tre- 
mendous haggling, shouting, and gesticulating, as if 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


117 


the parties were on the verge of coming to blows ; 
whereas all was in good fellowship, and a pleasing 
excitement and diversion where time was of no value 
to anybody. Arthur began to despair of ever gain- 
ing attention. He was allowed to wander about as 
he pleased within the village gates, and Ulysse was 
apparently quite happy with the little children, who 
were beautiful and active, although kept dirty and 
ragged as a protection from the evil eye. 

Somehow the engrossing occupation of every one, 
especially of the only two creatures with whom he 
could converse, made Arthur more desolate than ever. 
He lay down under an ilex, and his heart ached with a 
sick longing he had not experienced since he had been 
with the Nithsdales, for his mother and his home — 
the tall, narrow-gabled house that had sprung up close 
to the grim old peel tower, the smell of the sea, the 
tinkling of the burn. He fell asleep in the heat of 
the day, and it was to him as if he were once more 
sitting by the old shepherd on the braeside, hearing 
him tell the old tales of Johnnie Armstrong or Willie 
o’ the wud spurs. 

Actually a Scottish voice was in his ears, as he 
looked up and saw the turbaned head of Yusuf the 
merchant bending over him, and saying— 

“Wake up, my bonnie laddie; we can hae our 
crack in peace while these folks are taking their noon- 
day sleep. Aweel, and where are ye frae, and how 
do you ca’ yersel’ ?” 

“I am from Berwickshire,” responded the youth, 
and as the man started — “ My name is Arthur Max- 
well Hope of Burnside.” 

“ Eh ! No a son of auld Sir Davie?” 


118 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


‘‘His youngest son.” 

The man clasped his hands, and uttered a strange 
sound as if in the extremity of amazement, and there 
was a curious unconscious cliange of tone, as lie 
said — 

“ Sir Davie’s son ! Ye’ll never have heard tell of 
Partan Jeannie?” he added. 

“A very old fishwife,” said Arthur, “who used to 
come her rounds to our door?” Was she of kin to 
you ?” 

“My mither, sir. Mony’s the time I hae peepit 
out on the cuddie’s back between the creels at the 
door of the braw house of Burnside, and mon^^’s the 
bannock and cookie the gude lady gied me. My 
ininnie ’ll no be living thae noo,” he added, not very 
tenderly. 

“ I should fear not,” said Arthur. “ I Iiad not seen 
or heard of her for some time before I left home, and 
that is now three years since. She looked very old 
then, and I remember my mother saying she was not 
fit to come her rounds.” 

“She wasna that auld,” returned the merchant, 
gravely ; “ but she had led sic a life as falls to the lot 
of nae wife in this country.” 

Arthur had almost said, “Whose fault was that?” 
but he dared not offend a possible protector, and soft- 
ened his words into, “ It is strange to find you here, 
and a Mohammedan too.” 

“Hoots, Maister Arthur, let that flea stick by the 
wa’. We maun do at Home as Pome does, as ye’ll 
soon find” — and disregarding Arthur’s exclamation 
— “ and the bit bairn, I thocht ye said he was no Scot, 
when I was danndering awa’ at the French yestreen.” 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


119 


‘‘ No, he is half-Irish, half-French, eldest son of 
Count Burke, a good Jacobite, who got into, trouble 
with the Prince of Orange, and is high in the French 
service.’’ 

“ And what gars your father’s son to be secretaire, 
as ye ca’d it, to Frenchman or Irishman either?” 

“ Well, it was my own fault. I was foolish enough 
to run away from school to join the rising for our 
own king’s — ” 

“Eh, sirs! And has there been a rising on the 
border-side against the English pock puddings ? Oh, 
gin I had kenned it 1” 

Yusuf’s knowledge of English politics had been 
dim at the best^and he had apparently left Scotland 
before even Queen Anne was on the throne. When 
he understood Arthur’s story, he communicated his 
own. He had been engaged in a serious brawl with 
some English fishers, and in fear of the consequences 
had fled from Eyemouth, and after casting about as 
a common sailor in various merchant-ships, had been 
captured by a Moorish vessel, and had found it ex- 
pedient to purchase his freedom by conversion to 
Islam, after which his Scottish shrewdness and thrift 
had resulted in his becoming a prosperous itinerant 
merchant, with his headquarters at Bona. He ex- 
pressed himself willing and anxious to do all he could 
for his young countryman ; but it would be almost 
impossible to do so unless Arthur would accept the 
religion of his captors ; and he explained that the 
two boys were the absolute property of the tribe, who 
had discovered and rescued them when going to the 
seashore to gather kelp for the glass-work practised 
by the Moors in their little furnaces. 


130 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


“Forsake my religion? Never!” cried Arthur, 
indignari tly. 

“Saftly, saftly,” said Yusuf; “ nae doot ye trow 
as I did that they are a’ mere pagans and savage 
heatliens, worshipping Baal and Ashtaroth, but I 
fand myself quite mista’en. They hae no idols, 
and girn at the blinded Papists as muckle as auld 
Deacon Shortcoats himsel’.” 

“I know that,” threw in Arthur. 

“ Ay, and they are a hantle mair pious and devout 
than ever a body I hae seen in Eyemouth, or a’ the 
country-side to boot ; forbye, my minnie’s auld auntie, 
that sat graning by the ingle, and aye banned us 
when we came ben. The meneester himseP dinna 
gae about blessing and praying over ilka sma’ matter 
like the meenest of us here, and for a’ the din they 
make at harae about the honorable Sabbath, wha 
thinks of praying five times the day ? While as for 
being the waur for liquor, these folks kenna the very 
taste of it. Put yon sheik down on the wharf at 
Eyemouth, and what wad he say to the Christian 
folk there?” 

A shock of conviction passed over Arthur, though 
he tried to lose it in indignant defence; but Yusuf 
did not venture to stay any longer with him, and, 
bidding him think over what had been said, since 
slavery or Islam were the only alternatives, returned 
to the tents of merchandise. 

First thoughts with the youth had of course been 
of horror at the bare idea of apostasy, and yet as he 
watched his Moorish hosts, he could not but own to 
himself that he never had dreamed that to be among 
them would be so like dwelling under the oak of 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


121 


Mamre, in the tents of Abraham. From what he re- 
membered of Parian Jeannie’s reputation as a being 
only tolerated and assisted by his mother, on account 
of her extreme misery and destitution, he could be- 
lieve that the ne’er-do-weel son, who must have for- 
saken her before he himself was born, might have 
really been raised in morality by association with 
the grave, faithful, and temperate followers of Mo- 
hammed, rather than the scum of the port of Eye- 
mouth. 

For himself and the boy, what did slavery mean ? 
He hoped to understand better from Yusuf, and at 
any rate to persuade the man to become the medium 
of communication with the outside world, beyond 
that “ dissociable ocean,” over wdiich his wistful gaze 
wandered. Then the ransom of the little Chevalier 
de Bourke would be certain, and, if there were any 
gratitude in the world, his own. But how long 
would this take, and what might befall them in the 
meantime? 

Ulysse all this time seemed perfectly happy with 
the small Moors, who all romped together without 
distinction of rank, of master, slave or color, for 
Yusuf’s little negro was freely received among them. 
At night, however, Ulysse’s old home self seemed to 
revive ; he crept back to Arthur, tired and weary, 
fretting for mother, sister, and home ; and even af- 
ter he had fallen asleep, waking again to cry for 
Julienne. Poor Arthur, he was a rough nurse, but 
pity kept him patient, and he was even glad to see 
that the child had not forgotten his home. 

Meantime, ever since the sunset prayer, there had 
been smoking of pipes and drinking of coffee, and 


122 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


earnest discussion between the slieik and the mer- 
chant, and b}’ and by Yusuf came and sat himself down 
by Arthur, smiling a little at the young man’s diffi- 
culty in disposing of those long legs upon the ground. 

“ Ye’ll have to learn this and other things, sir,” 
said he, as he crossed his own under him. Eastern 
fashion ; but his demeanor was, on the whole, that 
of the fisher to the laird’s son, and he evidently 
thought that he had a grand proposal to make, for 
which Master Arthur ought to be infinitely obliged. 

He explained to Arthur that Sheik Abou Ben 
Zegri had never had more than two sons, and that 
both had been killed the year before in trying to 
recover their cattle from the Cabeleyzes, “ a sort of 
Hieland caterans.” 

The girl whom Arthur had noticed was the widow 
of the elder of the two, and the child was only a 
daughter. The sheik had been much impressed by 
Arthur’s exploits in swimming or fioating round the 
headland and saving the child, and regarded his 
height as something gigantic. Moreover, Yusuf had 
asserted that he was son to a great bey in his own 
country, and in consequence Abou Ben Zegri was 
willing to adopt him as his son, provided he would 
embrace the true faith, and marry Ayesha, the widow. 

“And,” said Yusuf, “these women are no that ill 
for wives, as I ken ower weel ” — and he sighed. “ I 
had as gude and douce a wee wifie at Bona as heart 
culd wish, and twa bonny bairnies; but when I cam’ 
back frae my rounds, the plague had been there be- 
fore me. They were a’ gone, even Ali, that had just 
began to ca’ me Ab, Ab, and I hae never had heart 
to gang back to the town house. She was a gude 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


123 


wife — nae flying, nae rampaiiging. She wad hae 
died wi’ shame to be likened to thae randy wives at 
home. Ye might do waur than tak’ such a fair offer, 
Maister Arthur.” 

“You mean it all kindly,” said Arthur, touched ; 
“but for nothing — no, for nothing, can a Christian 
deny his Lord, or yield up his hopes for hereafter.” 

“As for that,” returned Yusuf, “the meneester 
and Deacon Shortcoats, and my auld auntie, and the 
lave of them, aye ca’ed me a vessel of destruction. 
That was the best name they had for puir Tam. So 
what odds culd it mak, if I took up with the prophet, 
and I was ower lang leggit to row in a galley ? For- 
bye, here they say that a man who prays and gies 
awmous, and keeps frae wine, is sicker to win to 
Paradise and a’ the houris. I had rather it war my 
puir Zorah than any strange houri of them a’ ; but 
any way, I hae been a better man sin’ I took up wi’ 
them than ever I was as a cursing, swearing, drunken, 
fechting sailor lad wha feared neither God nor 
devil.” 

“ That was scarce the fault of the Christian faith,” 
said Arthur. 

“ Aweel, the first answer in the Shorter Carritch 
was a’ they ever garred me learn, and that is what 
we here say of Allah. I see no muckle to choose, 
and I ken ane thing — it is a hell on earth at ance 
gin ye gang not alang wi’ them. And that’s sicker, 
as ye’ll And to your cost, sir, gin ye be na the better 
guided.” 

“ With hope, infinite hope, beyond,” said Arthur, 
trying to fortify himself. “ No, I cannot, cannot 
deny my Lord— my Lord that bought me!” 


124 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


‘‘We own Issa Ben Mariam for a prophet,” said 
Yusuf. 

“ But He is my only Master, my Bedeemer, and 
God. Ho, come what may, I can never renounce 
him,” said Arthur with vehemence. 

“Weel, aweel,” said Yusuf, “maybe ye’ll see in 
time what’s for your gude. I’ll tell the sheik it 
would misbecome your father’s son to do sic a deed 
ower lichtly, and strive to gar him wait while I am 
in these parts to get your word, and nae doot it will 
be wiselike at the last.” 


CHAPTER YII. 

MASTER AND SLAVE. 

‘‘ I only heard the reckless waters roar, 

Those waves that would not bear me from the shore ; 

I only marked the glorious sun and sky, 

Too bright, too blue for my captivity. 

And felt that all which Freedom’s bosom cheers. 

Must break my chain before it dried my tears.” 

— Byron, Hie Corsair. 

At the rate at which the traliic in Yusufs tent 
proceeded, Arthur Hope was likely to have some 
little time for deliberation on the question presented 
to him whether to be a free Moslem sheik or a 
Christian slave. 

Hot only had almost every household in El-Ar- 
nieh to chaffer with the merchant for his wares and 
to dispose of home-made commodities, but from 
other adowaras and from hill-farms Moors and Ca- 
byles came in with their produce of wax, wool, or silk, 
to barter — if not with Yusuf, with the inhabitants 
of El-Arnieh, who could weave and embroider, forge 
cutlery, and make glass from the raw material these 
supplied. Other Cabyles, divers from the coast, 
came up, with coral and sponges, the latter of which 
was the article in which Yusuf preferred to deal, 
though nothing came amiss to him that he could 
carry, or that could carry itself — such as a young 
foal; even the little black boy had been taken on 


126 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


speculation — and so indeed had the big Abyssinian, 
who, though dumb, was the most useful, ready, and 
alert of his five slaves. Every bargain seemed to 
occupy at least an hour, and perhaps Yusuf lingered 
the longer in order to give Arthur more time for 
consideration ; or it might be that his native tongue, 
once heard, exercised an irresistible fascination over 
him. He never failed to have what he called a 
“ crack ” with his young countryman at the hour of 
the siesta, or at night, perhaps persuading the sheik 
that it was controversial, though it was more apt to 
be on circumstances of the day’s trade or the news of 
the Border-side. Controversy indeed there could be 
little with one so ignorant as kirk treatment in that 
century was apt to leave the outcasts of society, nor 
had conversion to Islam given him much instruction 
in its tenets ; so that the conversation generally was on 
earthly topics, though it always ended in assurances 
that Master Arthur would suffer for it if he did not 
perceive what was for his good. To which Arthur 
replied to the effect that he must suffer rather than 
deny his faith ; and Yusuf, declaring that a wilful 
man maun have his way, and that he would rue it 
too late, went off affronted, but always returned to 
the charge at the next opportunity. 

Meantime Arthur was free to wander about un- 
molested and pick up the language, in which, how- 
ever, Ulysse made far more rapid progress, and could 
be heard chattering away as fast, if not as correctly, 
as if it were French or English. The delicious cli- 
mate and the open-air life were filling the little fellow 
with a strength and vigor unknown to him in a Pa- 
risian salon, and he was in the highest spirits among 


A MODERN TELEMACIIUS. 


127 


his brown playfellows, ceasing to pine for his mother 
and sister; and though he still came to Arthur for 
the night, or in any trouble, it was more and more 
difficult to get him to submit to be washed and 
dressed in his tight European clothes, or to say his 
prayers. He was always sleepy at night and volatile 
in the morning, and could not be got to listen to the 
little instructions with which Arthur tried to arm 
him against Mohammedanism, into which the poor 
little fellow was likely to drift as ignorantly and un- 
consciously as Yusuf himself. 

And what was the alternative? Arthur himself 
never wavered, nor indeed actually felt that he had 
a choice; but the prospect before him was gloomy, 
and Yusuf did not soften it. The sheik would sell 
him, and he would either be made to work on some 
mountain-farm, or put on board a galley ; and Yusuf 
had sufficient experience of the horrors of the latter 
to assure him emphatically that the gude leddy of 
Burnside would break her heart to think of her 
bonny laddie there. 

‘‘ It would more surely break her heart to thirdv 
of her son giving up his faith,” returned Arthur, 

As to the child, the opinion of the tribe seemed to 
be that he was just fit to be sent to the sultan to be 
bred as a janizary. “ He will come that gate to be 
as great a man as in his ain countree,” said Yusuf; 
“ wP horse to ride, and sword to bear, and braws to 
wear, like King Solomon in all his glory.” 

“ While his father and mother would far rather 
he were lying dead with her under the waves in 
that cruel bay,” returned Arthur. 

“ Hout, mon, ye dinna ken what’s for his gude, 
nor for your ain neither,” retorted Yusuf. 


128 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


“ Good here is not good hereafter.” 

“ The life of a dog and waur here,” muttered Yu- 
suf ; “ye’ll mind me when it is too late.” 

“Nay, Yusuf, if you will only take word of our 
condition to Algiers, we shall — at least the boy— be 
assuredly redeemed, and you would win a high re- 
ward.” 

“I am no free to gang to Algiers,” said Yusuf. 
“ I fell out with a loon there, one of those janizaries 
that gang hectoring aboot as though the world were 
not glide enough for them, and if I hadna made the 
best of my way out of the toon, my pow wad be a 
warricow on the wa’s of the tower.” 

“ There are French at Bona, you say. Kemeinber, 
I ask you to put yourself in no danger, only to bear 
the tidings to any European,” entreated Arthur. 

“And how are they to find ye?” demanded Yu- 
suf. “Abou Ben Zegri will never keep you here 
after having evened his gude-daughter to ye. He’ll 
sell you to some corsair captain, and then the best 
that could betide ye wad be that a shot frae the 
Knights of Malta should make quick work wi’ ye. 
Or, look at the dumbie there, Fareek. A Christian, 
he ca’s himsel’, too, though ’tis of a by ordinar’ fash- 
ion, such as Deacon Shortcoats would scarce own. 
I coft him dog cheap at Tunis, when his master, the 
vizier, had had his tongue cut out — for but know- 
ing o’ some deed that suld ne’er have been done — 
and his puir feet bastinadoed to a jelly. Gin a’ the 
siller in the dey’s treasury ransomed ye, what glide 
would it do ye after that ?” 

“I cannot help that — I cannot forsake my God. 
I must trust him not to forsake me.” 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


129 


And, as usual, Yusuf went off angrily muttering, 
‘‘ He that will to Cupar maun to Cupar.” 

Perhaps Arthur’s resistance had begun more for 
the sake of honor, and instinctive clinging to heredi- 
tary faith, without the sense of heroism or enthusi- 
asm for martyrdom which sustained Estelle, and 
rather with the feeling that inconstancy to his faith 
and his Lord would be base and disloyal. But, as 
the long days rolled on, if the future of toil and 
dreary misery developed itself before him, the sense 
of personal love and aid towards the Lord and Mas- 
ter whom he served grew upon him. Neither the 
gazelle-eyed Ayesha nor the prosperous village life 
presented any great temptation. He w’ould have 
given them all for one bleak day of mist on a bor- 
der moss; it was the appalling contrast with the 
hold of a Moorish galley that at times startled him, 
together with the only too great probability that he 
should be utterly incapable of saving poor little 
Ulysse from unconscious apostasy. 

Once Yusuf observed that if he would only make 
outward submission to Moslem law, he might retain 
his own belief and trust in the Lord he seemed so 
much to love, and of whom he said more good than 
any Moslem did of the prophet. 

“ If I deny Him, he will deny me,” said Arthur. 

“And will na He forgive ane as is hard pressed?” 
asked Yusuf. 

“ It is a very different thing to go against the 
light, as I should be doing,” said Arthur, “ and what 
it might be for that poor bairn, whom God preserve.” 

“And wow! sir. ’Tis far different wi’ you that 
had the best of gude learning frae the gude led- 
9 


130 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


dj,” muttered Yusuf. ‘‘ Mj minnie aye needit me 
to sort the lisli and gang her errands, and wad 
scarce hae sent me to scule, gin I wad hae gane 
where they girned at me for Partan Jeannie’s wean, 
and gied me mair o’ the tawse than of the hornbook. 
Gin the Lord, as ye ca’ Ivim, had ever seemed to me 
what ye say he is to you, Maister Arthur, I rnicht 
liae tliocht twice o’er tiie matter. But there’s nae 
ganging back tlienoo. A Christian’s life they harm 
na, though they mak’ it a mere weariness to him ; 
but for him that quits the prophet, tearing the flesh 
wi’ iron cleeks is the best they hae for him.” 

This time Yusuf retreated, not as usual in anger, 
but as if tlie bare idea he had broached was too ter- 
rible to be dwelt upon. He had by the end of a 
fortnight completed all his business at El-Arnieh, 
and Arthur, having by this time picked up enough 
of the language to make himself comprehensible, 
and to know fully what was set before him, was 
called upon to make his decision, so that either he 
might be admitted by regular ritual into the Moslem 
faith, and adopted by the sheik, or else be adver- 
tised by Yusuf at the next town as a strong young 
slave. 

Sitting in the gate among the village magnates, 
like an elder of old. Sheik Abou Ben Zegri, with 
considerable grace and dignity, set the choice before 
the son of the sea in most affectionate terms, ask- 
ing of him to become the child of his old age, and 
to heal the breach left by the swords of the robbers 
of the mountains. 

The old man’s flne, dark eyes fllled with tears, and 
there was a pathos in his noble manner that made 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


131 


Arthur greatly grieved to disappoint him, and sorry 
not to have sufficient knowledge of the language to 
qualify more graciously the resolute reply he had 
so often rehearsed to himself, expressing his hearty 
thanks, but declaring that nothing could induce him 
to forsake the religion of his fathers. 

“Wilt thou remain a dog of an unbeliever, and 
receive the treatment of dpgs?” 

“ I must,” said Arthur. 

“The youth is a goodly youth,” said the sheik; 
“ it is ill that his heart is blind. Once again, young 
man, Issa Ben Mariam and slavery, or Mohammed 
and freedom ?” 

“I cannot deny my Lord Christ.” 

There was a pause. Arthur stood upright, with 
lips compressed, hands clasped together, while the 
sheik and his companions seemed struck by his 
courage and high spirit. Then one of them — a 
small, ugly fellow, who had some pretensions to be 
considered the sheik’s next heir — cried, “Out on 
the infidel dog !” and set the example of throwing 
a handful of dust at him. The crowd who watched 
around were not slow to follow the example, and 
Arthur thought he was actually being stoned ; but 
the missiles were for the most part not harmful, 
only disgusting, blinding, and confusing. There 
was a tremendous hubbub of vituperation, and he 
was at last actually stunned by a blow, waking to 
find himself alone, and with hands and feet bound, 
in a dirty little shed appropriated to camels. Should 
he ever be allowed to see poor little Ulysse again, 
or to speak to Yusuf, in whom lay their only 
faint hope of redemption? lie was helpless, and 


132 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


the boy was at the mercy of the Moors. Was he 
utterly forsaken ? 

It was growing late in the day, and he had had no 
food for many hours. Was he to be neglected and 
starved? At last he heard steps approaching, and 
the door was opened by the man who had led the as- 
sault on him, who addressed him as “ Son of an old 
ass — dog of a slave,” bade him stand up and show 
his height, at the same time cutting the cords that 
bound him. It was an additional pang that it was 
to Yusuf that he was thus to exhibit himself, no 
doubt in order that the merchant should carry a de- 
scription of him to some likely purchaser. He could 
not comprehend the words that passed, but it was 
very bitter to be handled like a horse at a fair — 
doubly so that he, a Hope of Burnside, should thus 
be treated by Partan Jeannie’s son. 

There ensued outside the shrieking and roaring 
which always accompanied a bargain, and which 
lasted two full hours. Finally Yusuf looked into 
the hut and roughly said in Arabic, Come over to 
me, dog ; thou art mine. Kiss the shoe of thy mas- 
ter” — adding in his native tongue, “For ance, sir. 
It maun be done before these loons.” 

Certainly the ceremony would have been felt as 
less humiliating towards almost anybody else, but 
Arthur endured it; and then was led away to the 
tents beyond the gate. 

“ There, sir,” said Yusuf, “ it ill sorts your father’s 
son to be in sic a case, but it canna be helpit. I culd 
na leave behind the bonny Scots tongue, let alane the 
glide Leddy Hope’s son.” 

“You have been very good to me, Yusuf,” said 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


133 


Arthur, his pride much softened by the merchant’s 
evident sense of the situation. “ I know you mean 
me well, but the boy — ” 

“Hoots! the bairn is happy eno’. He will come 
to higher preferment than even you or I. Why, 
mon, an aga of the janizaries is as good as the deuk 
himsel’.” 

“Yusuf, I am very grateful — I believe you must 
have paid heavily to spare me from ill usage.” 

“ Ye may say that, sir. Forty piastres of Tunis 
and eight mules and twa pair of silver-mounted pis- 
tols. The extortionate rogue wad hae had the little 
dagger, but I stood out against that.” 

“ I see, I am deeply beholden,” said Arthur ; “ but 
it would be tenfold better if you would take him in- 
stead of me 1” 

“ What for suld I do that ? He is nae countryman 
of mine — one side French and the other Irish. He 
is naught to me.” 

“He is heir to a noble house,” urged Arthur. 
“ They will reward you amply for saving him.” 

“Mair like to girn at me for a Moor. Na, na! 
Hae na I dune enough for ye, Maister Arthur — giv- 
ing half my beasties, and more than half my silver? 
Ganna ye be content without that whining bairn?” 

“ I should be a forsworn man to be content to leave 
the child, whose dead mother prayed me to protect 
him, amid those who will turn him from her faith. 
See, now, I am a man, and can guard myself, by the 
grace of God ; but to leave the poor child here would 
be letting these men work their will on him ere any 
ransom could come. His mother would deem it giv- 
ing him up to perdition. Let me remain here, and 


134 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


take the helpless child. You know how to bargain. 
His price might be my ransom.’’ 

“ Ay, when the jackals and hyenas have picked 
your banes, or you have died under the lash, chained 
to the oai*, as I hae seen, Maister Arthur.” 

“ Better so than betray the dead woman’s trust. 
How no — ” 

For there was a pattering of feet, a cry of “ Ar- 
thur, Arthur !” and sobbing, screaming, and crying, 
IJlysse threw himself on his friend’s breast. He was 
pursued by one or two of the hangers-on of the sheik’s 
household, and the first comer seized him by the arm ; 
but he clung to Arthur, screamed and kicked, and 
the old nurse who had come hobbling after coaxed 
in vain. He cried out in a mixture of Arabic and 
French that he would sleep with Arthur — Arthur 
must put him to bed ; no one should take him away. • 

“ Let him stay,” responded Yusuf ; “ his time will 
come soon enough.” 

Indulgence to children was the rule, and there was 
an easy good-nature about the race which made them 
ready to defer the storm and acquiesce in the poor 
little fellow remaining for another evening with that 
last remnant of his home to whom he always reverted 
at nightfall. 

He held tremblingly by Arthur till all were gone, 
then looked about in terror, and required to be as- 
sured that no one was coming to take him away. 

“ They shall not,” he cried. ‘‘ Arthur, you will 
not leave me alone? They are all gone — mamma 
and Estelle and la honne and Laurent and my uncle 
and all, and you will not go ?” 

‘‘ Kot now, not to-night, my dear little mannie,” 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


135 


said Arthur, tears in his eyes for the first time 
throughout these misfortunes. 

“Not now! No, never!” said the boy, hugging 
him almost to choking. “ That naughty Ben Kader 
said they had sold you for a slave, and you were go- 
ing away ; but I knew I should find you — you are 
not a slave ! — you are not black — ” 

“ Ah ! Ulysse, it is too true ; I am — ” 

“No! no! no!” the child stamped, and hung on 
him in a passion of tears. “ You shall not be a slave. 
My papa shall come with his soldiers and set you 
free.” 

Altogether the boy’s vehemence, agitation, and 
terror were such that Arthur found it impossible to 
do anything but soothe and hush him, as best might 
be, till his sobs subsided gradually, still heaving his 
little chest even after he fell asleep in the arms of 
his unaccustomed nurse, who found himself thus baf- 
fled in using this last and only opportunity of trying 
to strengthen the child’s faith, and was also hindered 
from pursuing Yusuf, who had left the tent. And 
if it were separation that -caused all this distress, what 
likelihood that Yusuf would encumber himself with 
a child who had shown such powers of wailing and 
screaming ? 

He dared not stir nor speak for fear of wakening 
the boy, even when Yusuf returned and stretched 
himself on his mat, drawing a thick woollen cloth 
over him, for the nights were chill. Long did Ar- 
thur lie awake under the strange sense of slavery and 
helplessness, and utter uncertainty as to his fate, ex- 
pecting, in fact, that Yusuf meant to keep him as a 
sort of tame animal, to talk Scotch ; but hoping to 


136 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


work on him in time to favor an escape, and at any 
rate to despatch a letter to Algiers, as a forlorn hope 
for the ultimate redemption of the poor little un- 
conscious child who lay warm and heavy across his 
breast. Certainly, Arthur had never so prayed for 
aid, light, and deliverance as now ! 


CHAPTER YIII. 


•THE SEARCH. 

“ The lights begin to twinkle from the rocks, 

The long day wanes, the slow moon climbs. The deep 
Moans round with many voices. Come, my friends.” 

— Tennyson. 

Arthur fell asleep at last, and did not waken till 
after sunrise, nor did Ulysse, who must have been 
exhausted with crying and struggling. When they 
did awaken, Arthur thinking with heavy heart that 
the moment of parting was come, lie saw indeed the 
other three slaves busied in making bales of the mer- 
chandise ; but the master, as well as the Abyssinian, 
Fareek, and the little negro were all missing. Bekir, 
who was a kind of foreman, and looked on the new 
W’hite slave with some jealousy, roughly pointed to 
some coarse food, and in reply to the question whether 
the merchant were taking leave of the sheik, intimated 
that it was no business of theirs, and assumed au- 
thority to make his new fellow -slave assist in the 
hardest of the packing. Arthur had no heart to re- 
sist, much as it galled him to be ordered about by 
this rude fellow. It was only a taste, as he well 
knew, of what he had embraced, and he was touched 
by poor little Ulysse’s persistency in keeping as close 
as possible, though his playfellows came down and 
tried first to lure, then to drag him av/ay, and finally 
remained to watch the process of packing up. Though 


138 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


Bekir was too disdainful to reply to liis fellow-slave’s 
questions, Arthur picked up from answers to the 
Moors who came down that Yusuf had recollected 
that he had not linished his transactions with a little 
village of Cabyle coral and sponge fishers on the 
coast, and had gone down thither, taking the little 
negro, to whom the headman seemed to have taken 
a fancy, so as to become a possible purchaser, and 
with the Abyssinian to attend to the mules. 

A little before sundown Yusuf returned. Fareek 
lifted down a pannier covered by a crimson-and-yel- 
low kerchief, and Yusuf declared, with much apparent 
annoyance, that the child was sick, and that this had 
frustrated the sale. He was asleep, must be carried 
into the tent, and not disturbed : for though the Ca- 
byles had not purchased him, there was no affording 
to lose anything of so much value. Moreover, ob- 
serving Ulysse still hovering round the Scot, he said, 
“ You may bide here the night, laddie, I ha tell’t the 
sheik;” and he repeated the same to the slaves in 
Arabic, dismissing them to hold a parting feast on a 
lamb stuffed with pistachio nuts, together with their 
village friends. 

Then drawing near to Arthur, he said, “ Can ye 
gar yon wean keep a quiet sough, if we make him 
pass for the little black 

Arthur started with joy, and stammered some 
words of intense relief and gratitude. 

“ The deed’s no dune yet,” said Yusuf, ‘‘ and it is 
ower like to end in our leaving a’ our banes on the 
sands ! But a wilfu’ man maun have his way,” he 
repeated; ‘‘so, sir, if it be your wull, ye’d better 
speak to the bairn, for we must make a blackamoor 


A MODERN. TELEMACHUS. 


189 


of him while there is licht to do it, or Bekir, whom I 
dinna lipperi to, comes back frae the feast.” 

Ulysse, being used to Irish-English, had little un- 
derstanding of Yusufs broad Scotch; but he was 
looking anxiously from one to the other of the speak- 
ers, and when Arthur explained to him that the dis- 
guise, together with perfect silence, was the only 
hope of not being left behind among the Moors, and 
the best chance of getting back to his home and dear 
ones again, he perfectly understood. As to the 
blackening, for which Yusuf had prepared a mixture 
to be laid on with a feather, it was perfectly enchant- 
ing to faire la comedie. lie laughed so much that 
he had to be peremptorily hushed, and they were 
sensible of the danger that in case of a search he 
might betray himself to his Moorish friends; and 
Arthur tried to make him comprehend the extreme 
danger, making him cry so that his cheeks had to be 
touclied up. His eyes and hair were dark, and the 
latter was cut to its shortest by Yusuf, who further 
managed to fasten some tufts of wool dipped in the 
black unguent to the kerchief that bound his head. 
The childish features had something of the Irish cast, 
which lent itself to the transformation, and in the 
scanty garments of the little negro Arthur owned 
that he should never have known the small French 
gentleman. Arthur was full of joy — Yusuf gruff, 
brief, anxious, like one acting under some compul- 
sion most unwillingly, and even despondently, but 
apparently constrained by a certain instinctive feudal 
feeling, which made him follow the desires of the 
young border laird’s son. 

All had been packed beforehand, and there was 


140 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


nothing to be done but to strike the tents, saddle the 
mules, and start. Ulysse, still very sleepy, was lifted 
into the pannier, almost at the first streak of dawn, 
while the slaves were grumbling at being so early 
called up ; and to a Moor who woke up and offered 
to take charge of the little bey, Yusuf replied that 
the child had been left in the sheik’s house. 

So they were safely out at the outer gate, and pro- 
ceeding along a beautiful path leading above the 
cliffs. The mules kept in one long string, Bekir 
with the foremost, which was thus at some distance 
from the hindmost, which carried Ulysse and was at- 
tended by Arthur, while the master rode his own 
animals and gave directions. Tlie fiction of illness 
was kept up, and when the bright eyes lookedmp in 
too lively a manner, Yusuf produced some of the 
sweets, which were always part of his stock in trade, 
as a bribe to quietness. 

At sunrise the halt for prayer was a trial to Ar- 
thur’s intense anxiety, and far more so was the noon- 
tide one for sleep. He even ventured a remon- 
strance, but was answered, “ Mair haste, worse speed. 
Our lives are no worth a boddle till the search is ’ 
over.” 

They were on the shady side of a great rock over- 
hung by a beautiful creeping plant, and with a spring 
near at hand, and Yusuf, in leisurely fashion, squatted 
down, caused Arthur to lift out the child, who was 
fast asleep again, and the mules to be allowed to feed, 
and distributed some dried goat’s fiesh and dates ; 
but Ulysse, somewhat to Arthur’s alarm, did not 
wake sufficiently to partake. 

Looking up in alarm he met a sign from Yusuf, 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


141 


and presently a whisper, “No hurt done — ’tis safer 
thus — ” 

And by this time there were alarming sounds on 
the air. The sheik and two of the chief men of El- 
Arnieh were on horseback and armed with match- 
locks ; and the whole ^ 055 ^ of the village were fol- 
lowing on foot, with yells and vituperations of the 
entire ancestry of the merchant, and far more com- 
plicated and furious threats than Arthur could fol- 
low ; but he saw Yusuf go forward to meet them 
with the utmost cool courtesy. 

They seemed somewhat discomposed ; Yusuf ap- 
peared to condole with them on the loss, and, wav- 
ing his hands, put all his baggage at their service for 
a search, letting them run spears through the bales, 
and overturn the baskets of sponges, and search be- 
hind every rock. When they approached the sleep- 
ing boy, Arthur, with throbbing heart, dimly com- 
prehended that Yusuf was repeating the story of the 
disappointment of a purchase caused by his illness, 
and lifting for a moment the covering laid over him 
to show the bare black legs and arms. There might 
also have been some hint of infection which, in spite 
of all Moslem belief in fate, deterred Abou Ben Zegri 
from an over-close inspection. Yusuf further in- 
vented a story of having put the little Frank in 
charge of a Moorish woman in the adowara ; but 
added he was so much attached to the son of the 
sea that most likely he had wandered out in search 
of him, and the only wise course would be to seek 
him before he was devoured by any of the wild 
beasts near home. 

Nevertheless, there was a courteous and leisurely 


142 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


smoking of pipes and drinking of coffee before the 
sheik and his followers turned homewards. To Ar- 
thur’s alarm and surprise, however, Yusuf did not re- 
sume the journey, but told Bekir that there would 
hardly be a better halting-place within their powers, 
as the sun w’as already some way on his downward 
course ; and besides, it would take some time to re- 
pack the goods which had been cast about in every 
direction during the search. The days were at their 
shortest, though that was not very short, closing in at 
about five o’clock, so that there was not much time 
to spare. Arthur began to feel some alarm at the 
continued drowsiness of the little boy, who only once 
muttered something, turned round, and slept again. 

“ What have you done to him ?” asked Arthur, 
anxiously. 

“ The poppy,” responded Yusuf. “ Never fash 
yoursel’. The bairn willna be a hair the waur, and 
’tis better so than that he shuld rax a’ our craigs.” 

Yusuf’s peril was so much the greater that it w’as 
impossible to object to any of his precautions, espe- 
cially as he might take offence and throw the whole 
matter over; but it was impossible not to chafe se- 
cretly at the delay, which seemed incomprehensible. 
Indeed, the merchant was avoiding private commu- 
nication with Arthur, only assuming the master, and 
ordering about in a peremptory fashion which it was 
very hard to digest. 

After the sunset orisons had been performed, 
Yusuf regaled his slaves with a donation of coffee 
and tobacco, but with a warning to Arthur not to 
partake, and to keep to windward of them. So, too, 
did the Abyssinian, and the cause of the warning was 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. US 

soon evident, as Bekir and his companion nodded, 
and then sank into a slumber as sound as that of 
the little Frenchman. Indeed, Arthur himself was 
weary enough to fall asleep soon after sundown, in 
spite of his anxiety, and the stars were shining like 
great lamps when Yusuf awoke him. One mule 
stood equipped beside him, and held by the Abys- 
sinian. Yusuf pointed to the child, and said, “ Lift 
him upon it.’’ 

Arthur obeyed, finding a pannier empty on one 
side to receive the child, who only muttered and 
writhed instead of awaking. The other side seemed 
laden. Yusuf lead the animal, retracing their way, 
while fire-flies flitted around with their green lights, 
and the distant laughter of hyenas gave Arthur a 
thrill of loathing horror. Huge bats fiuttered round, 
and once or twice grim shapes crossed their path. 
“Uncanny beasties,” quoth Yusuf; “but they will 
soon be behind us.” 

He turned into a rapid Ij^-sloping path. Arthur 
felt a fresh salt breeze in his face, and his heart 
leaped up with hope. 

In about an hour and a half they had reached a 
cove, shut in by dark rocks which in the night looked 
immeasurable, but on the white beach a few little 
huts were dimly discernible, one with a light in it. 
The sluggish dash of waves could be heard on the 
shore ; there was a sense of infinite space and breadth 
before them ; and Jupiter, sitting in the northwest, 
was like an enormous lamp, casting a pathway of 
light shimmering on the waters to lead the exiles 
home. 

Three or four boats were drawn up on the beach ; 


144 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


a man rose up from within one, and words in a low 
voice were exchanged between him and Yiisnf; 
while Fareek, grinning so that his white teeth could 
be seen in the starlight, unloaded the mule, placing 
its packs, a long Turkish blunderbuss, and two skins 
of water in the boat, and arranging a mat on which 
Arthur could lay the sleeping child. 

Well might the youth’s heart bound with grati- 
tude, as, unmindful of all the further risks and un- 
certainties to be encountered, he almost saw his way 
back to Burnside ! 


CHAPTEK IX. 

ESCAPE. 

“ Beside the helm he sat, steering expert, 

Nor sleep fell ever on his eyes that watch’d 
Intent the Pleiads, tardy in decline, 

Bootes and the Bear, call’d else the Wain, 

Which in his polar prison circling, looks 
Direct towards Orion, and alone 
Of these sinks never to the briny deep.” 

— Odyssey (Cowper). 

The boat was pushed off, the Abyssinian leaped 
into it; Arthur paused to pour out his thankfulness 
to Yusuf, but was met with the reply, “ Hout awa’ ! 
Time enugh for that — in wi’ ye.” And fancying 
there was some alarm, he sprang in, and to his amaze- 
ment found Yusuf instantly at his side, taking the 
rudder and giving some order to Fareek, who had 
taken possession of a pair of oai*s ; while the water 
seemed to flash and glitter a welcome at every dip. 

“You are coming! you are coming!” exclaimed 
Arthur, clasping the merchant’s hand, almost beside 
himself with joy. 

“ Sma’ hope wad there be of a callant like yersel’ 
and the wean there winning awa’ by yer lane,” 
growled Yusuf. 

“You have given up all for us.” 

“ There wasna muckle to gie,” returned the sponge 
merchant. “Sin’ the gndewife and her bit bairnies 
10 


146 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 




at Bona were gane, I hadna the heart to gang there- 
awa’, nor quit the sound o’ the bonny Scots tongue. 

I wad as soon gang to the bottom as to the toom 
house. For dinna ye trow yersells ower sicker e’en 
the noo.” 

‘‘Is there fear of pursuit?” 

“No mickle o’ that. The folk here are what they 
ca’ Cabyles, a douce set, not forgathering with Arabs 
nor wi’ Moors. I wad na gang among them till the 
search w’as over to-day; but yesterday I saw yon 
carle, and coft the boatie frae him for the wee black- i 
amoor and the mule. The Moors at El-Aziz are not 
seafaring; and gin the morn they jalouse what we ^ 

have done, we have the start of them. Na, I’m not ; 

feared for them ; but forbye that, this is no the sea- 
son for an open boatie wi’ a crew of three and a i 
wean. Gin we met an Algerian or Tunisian cruiser, : 
as we are maist like to do, a bullet or drooning wad 
be ower gude in their e’en for us — for me, that is to 
say. They wad spare the bairn, and may think you 
too likely a lad to hang on the walls like a split cor- 
bie on the woodsman’s lodge.” 

“Well, Yusuf, my name is Hope, you know,” said 
Arthur. “ God has brought us so far, and will scarce 
leave us now. I feel three times the man that I was 
when I lay down this evening. Do we keep to the 
north, where we are sure to come to a Christian land 
in time?” 

“Easier said than done. Ye little ken what the 
currents are in this same sea, or deed ye’ll soon ken 
when we get into them.” 

Arthur satisfied himself that they were making - 
for the north by looking at the pole star, so much 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


147 


lower than he was used to see it in Scotland that he 
hardly recognized his old friend ; but, as he watched 
the studded belt of the hunter and the glittering 
Pleiades, the Horatian dread of JNimbosus Orion oc- 
curred to him as a thought to be put away. 

Meantime there was a breeze from the land, and 
the sail was hoisted. Yusuf bade both Arthur and 
Fareek lie down to sleep, for their exertions would 
be wanted by and by, since it would not be safe to 
use the sail by daylight. It was very cold — wild 
blasts coming down from the mountains; but Ar- 
thur crept under the woollen mantle that had been 
laid over Ulysse, and was weary enough to sleep 
soundly. Both were awakened by the lowering of 
the mast ; and the little boy, who had quite slept 
off the drug, scrambling out from under the cover- 
ing, was astonished beyond measure at finding him- 
self between the glittering, sparkling expanse of sea 
and the sky, where the sun had just leaped up in a 
blaze of gold. 

The white summits of Atlas were tipped with rosy 
light, beautiful to behold, though the voyagers had 
much rather have been out of sight of them. 

‘‘How much have we made, Yusuf?” began Ar- 
thur. 

“ Tam Armstrong, so please you, sir ! Yusuf’s 
dead and buried the noo ; and if I were farther be- 
yant the grip of them that kenned him^ my thrap- 
ple would feel all the sounder !” 

This day was, he further explained, the most peril- 
ous one, since they were by no means beyond the 
track of vessels plying on the coast; and as a very 
jagged and broken cluster of rocks lay near, he de- 


148 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


cided on availing themselves of the shelter they af- 
forded. The boat was steered into a narrow channel 
between tw^o which stood up like the fangs of a great 
tooth, and afforded a pleasant shade ; but there was 
such a screaming and calling of gulls, terns, cormo- 
rants; and all manner of other birds, as they entered 
the little strait, and such a cloud of them hovered 
and whirled overhead, that Tam uttered imprecations 
on their skirling, and bade his companions lie close 
and keep (^uiet till they had settled again, lest the 
commotion should betray that the rocks were the lair 
of fugitives. 

It was not easy to keep Ulysse quiet, for he was 
in raptures at the rush of winged creatures, and no 
less so at the wonderful sea-anemones and starfish in 
the pools, where long streamers of wxed of beautiful 
colors fioated on the limpid water. 

Nothing reduced him to stillness but the sight of 
the dried goat’s flesh and dates that Tam Armstrong 
produced, and for which all had appetites, which had 
to be checked, since no one could tell how long it 
would be before any kind of haven could be reached. 

Arthur bathed himself and his charge in -a pool, 
after Tam had ascertained tliat no many-armed squid 
or cuttlefish lurked within it. And while Ulysse dis- 
ported himself like a little fish, Arthur did his best 
to restore him to his natural complexion, and tried 
to cleanse the little garments, which showed only too 
plainly the lack of any change, and which were the 
only Frank or Christian clothes among them, since 
young Hope himself had been almost stripped when 
he came ashore, and wore the usual garb of Yusufs 
slaves. 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


149 


Presently Fareek made an imperative sign to hush 
the child’s merry tongue; and peering forth in in- 
tense anxiety, the others perceived a lateen sail pass- 
ing perilously near, but happily keeping aloof from 
the sharp reef of rocks around their shelter. Arthur 
had forgotten the child’s prayers and his own, but 
Ulysse connected them with dressing, and the alarm 
of the passing ship had recalled them to the young 
man’s mind, though he felt shy as he found that Tam 
Armstrong w^as not asleep, but was listening and 
watching with his keen gray eyes under their griz- 
zled brows. Presently, when Ulysse was dropping 
to sleep again, the ex-merchant began to ask ques- 
tions with the intelligence of his shrewd Scottish 
brains. 

The stern Calvinism of the North was wont to 
consign to utter neglect the outcast border of civili- 
zation, where there were no decent parents to pledge 
themselves; and Partan Jeannie’s son had grown up 
well-nigh in heathen ignorance among fisher lads and 
merchant sailors, till it had been left for him to learn 
among the Mohammedans both temperance and de- 
votional habits. His whole faith and understanding 
would have been satisfied forever ; but there had 
been strange yearnings within him ever since he had 
lost his wife and children, and these had not passed 
away when Arthur Hope came in his path. Like 
many another renegade, he could not withstand the 
attraction of his native tongue ; and in this case it 
was doubled by the feudal attachment of the district 
to the family of Burnside, and a grateful remem- 
brance of the lady who had been one of the very 
few persons who had ever done a kindly deed by the 


150 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


little outcast. He had broken with all his Moslem 
ties for Arthur Hope’s sake; and these being left 
behind, he began to make some inquiries about that 
Christian faith to which he must needs return — if 
return be the right word in the case of one who 
knew it so little when he had abjured it. 

And Arthur had not been bred to the grim read- 
ing of the doctrine of predestination which had con- 
demned poor Tam, even before he had embraced the 
faith of the prophet. Boyish, and not over-thought- 
ful, the youth, when brought face to face with apos- 
tasy, had been ready to give life or liberty rather 
than deny his Lord ; and deepened by that great de- 
cision, he could hold up that Lord and Kedeemer in 
colors that made Tam see that his clinging to his 
faith was not out of mere honor and constancy, but 
that Mohammed had been a poor and wretched sub- 
stitute for him whom the poor fellow had denied, 
not knowing what he did. 

“Weel!” he said, “gin the deacon and the auld 
aunties had tellt me as mickle about him, thae Moors 
might ha’ preached their thrapples sair for Tam. 
Mashallah ! Maister Arthur, do ye think, noo, he 
can forgie a puir carle for turning frae him an’ dis- 
owning him ?” 

“ I am sure of it, Tam. He forgives all who come 
to him — and you — you did it in ignorance.” 

“ And you trow na that I am a vessel of wrath, as 
they aye said ?” 

“Ho, no, no, Tam. How could that be with one 
who has done what you have for us ? There is good 
in you — noble goodness, Tam ; and who could have 
put it there but God, the Holy Spirit ? I believe 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


151 


myself he was leading you all the time, though you 
did not know it ; making you a better man first, and 
now, through this brave kindness to us, bringing you 
back to be a real true Christian and know him.” 

Arthur felt as if something put the words into his 
mouth, but he felt them with all his heart, and the 
tears were in his eyes. 

At sundown Tam grew restless. Force of habit 
impelled him to turn to Mecca and make his devo- 
tions as usual, and after nearly kneeling down on the 
flat stone, he turned to Arthur and said, ‘‘ I canna 
weel do without the bit prayer, sir.” 

“ No, indeed, Tam. Only let it be in the right 
name.” 

And Arthur knelt down beside him and said the 
Lord’s Prayer — then, under a spell of bashful ness, 
muttered special entreaty for protection and safety. 

They were to embark again now that darkness 
would veil their movements, but the wind blew so 
much from the north that they could not raise the 
sail. The oars were taken by Tam and Fareek at 
first, but when they came into diificult currents Ar- 
thur changed places with the former. 

And thus the hours passed. The Mediterranean 
may be in our eyes a European lake, but it was quite 
large enough to be a desert of sea and sky to the 
little crew of an open boat, even though they were 
favored by the weather. Otherwise, indeed, they 
must have perished in the first storm. They durst 
not sail except by night, and then only with norther- 
ly winds, nor could there be much rest, since they 
could not lay to and drift with the currents, lest 
they should be carried back to the African coast. 


152 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


Only one of the three men could sleep at a time, 
and that by one of the others taking both oars, and 
in time this could not but become very exhausting. 
It was true that all the coasts to the north were of 
Christian lands ; but in their Moorish garments and 
in perfect ignorance of Italian, strangers might fare 
no better in Sardinia or Sicily than in Africa, and 
Spain might be no better; but Tam endeavored to 
keep a northwesterly course, thinking from what Ar- 
thur had said that in this direction there was more 
chance of being picked up by a French vessel. Would 
their strength and provisions hold out ? Of this there 
was serious doubt. Late in the year as it was, the 
heat and glare were as distressing by day as was the 
cold by night, and the continued exertion of rowing 
produced thirst, which made it very difficult to hus- 
band the water in the skins. Tam and Fareek were 
both tough, and inured to heat and privation ; but 
Arthur, scarce yet come to his full height, and far 
from having attained proportionate robustness and 
muscular strength, could not help flagging, though, 
whenever steering was of minor importance, Tam 
gave him the rudder, moved by his wan looks, for 
he never complained, even when fragments of dry 
goat’s flesh almost choked his parched mouth. The 
boy was never allowed to want for anything save 
water ; but it was very hard to hear him fretting for 
it. Tam took the goatskin into his own keeping, and 
more than once uttered a rough reproof, and yet Ar- 
thur saw him give the child half his own precious 
ration when it must have involved grievous suffer- 
ing. The promise about giving the cup of cold wa- 
ter to a little one could not but rise to his lips. 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


153 


“ Caiild ! and I wish it were cauld !” was all the re- 
sponse Tam made ; but his face showed some grat- 
ification. 

This was no season for traffic, and they had barely 
seen a sail or two in the distance, and these only such 
as the experienced eyes of the ex-sponge-merchant 
held to be dangerous. Deadly lassitude began to 
seize the young Scot ; he began scarcely to heed what 
was to become of them, and had not energy to try to 
console Ulysse, who, having in an unwatched moment 
managed to swallow some sea-water, was crying and 
wailing under the additional misery he had inflicted 
on himself. The sun beat down with noontide force, 
when on that fourth day, turning from its scorching, 
his languid eye espied a sail on the northern hori- 
zon. 

“ See,” he cried ; ‘‘ that is not the way of the 
Moors.” 

“ Bismillah ! I beg your pardon, sir,” cried Tam, 
but said no more, only looked intently. 

Gradually, gradually the spectacle rose on their 
view fuller and fuller, not the ruddy wings of the 
Algerine or Italian, but the square, white, castle-like 
tiers of sails rising one above another, bearing along 
in a southeasterly direction. 

English or French,” said Tam, with a long breath, 
for her colors and build were not yet discernible. 
“ Mashallah ! I beg pardon. I mean, God grant she 
pass us not by !” 

The mast was hastily raised, with Tain’s turban 
unrolled floating at the top of it ; and while he and 
Fareek plied their oars with might and main, he 
bade Arthur fire off at intervals the blunderbuss. 


154 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


which had hitherto lain idle at the bottom of the 
boat. 

How long the intense suspense lasted they knew 
not ere Artliur cried, “ They are slackening sail! 
Thank God. Tam, you have saved us ! English!” 

“ Not so fast !” Tam uttered an Arabic and then 
a Scottish interjection. 

Their signal had been seen by other eyes. An un- 
mistakable Algerine, with the crescent flag, was bear- 
ing down on them from the opposite direction. 

“Kascals. Do they not dread the British flag?” 
cried Arthur. “ Surely that will protect us ?” 

“ They are smaller and lighter, and with their gal- 
ley slaves can defy the wind, and loup off like a flea 
in a blanket,” returned Tam, grimly. “Mair by 
token, they guess what we are, and will hold on to 
hae my life’s bluid if naething mair ! Here ! Gie 
us a soup of the water, and the last bite of flesh. 
’Twill serve us the noo, and we shall need it nae mair 
any way.” 

Arthur fed him, for he dared not slacken rowing 
for a moment. Then seeing Fareek, who had borne 
the brunt of the fatigue, looking spent, the youth, 
after swallowing a few morsels and a little foul-smell- 
ing drink, took the second oar, while double force 
seemed given to the long arms lately so weary, and 
both pulled on in silent, grim desperation. Ulysse 
had given one scream at seeing the last of the water 
swallowed, but he too understood the situation, and 
obeyed Arthur’s brief words, “ Kneel down and pray 
for us, my boy.” 

The Abyssinian was evidently doing the same, 
after having loaded the blunderbuss ; but it was no 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


155 


longer necessary to use this as a signal, since the 
frigate had lowered her boat, which was rapidly com- 
ing towards them. 

But, alas ! still more swiftly, as it seemed to those 
terrified eyes, came the Moorish boat — longer, nar- 
rower, more favored by currents and winds, flying 
like a falcon towards its prey. It was a fearful race. 
Arthur’s head began to swim, his breath to labor, his 
arms to move stiffly as a thresher’s flail ; but, just as 
power was failing him, an English cheer came over 
the waters, and restored strength for a few more res- 
olute strokes. 

Then came some puffs of smoke from the pirate’s 
boat, a report, a jerk to their own, a fresh dash for- 
ward, even as Fareek fired, giving a moment’s check 
to the enemy. There was a louder cheer, several 
shots from the English boat, a cloud from the ship’s 
side. Then Arthur was sensible of a relaxation of 
effort, and that the chase was over, then that the 
British boat was alongside, friendly voices ringing in 
his ears, How now, mates ? Kunaways, eh ? Where 
d’ye hail from ?” 

‘‘Scottish! British!” panted out Arthur, unable 
to utter more, faint, giddy, and astounded by the 
cheers around him, and the hands stretched out in 
welcome. He scarcely saw or understood. 

“ Queer customers here ! What ! a child ! Who 
are you, my little man ? And what’s this? A Moor! 
He’s hit — pretty hard, too.” 

This brought back Arthur’s reeling senses in one 
flash of horror, at the sight of Tam, bleeding fast in 
the bottom of the boat. 

“ O Tam ! Tam ! He saved me ! He is Scottish 
too,” cried Arthur. “ Sir, is he alive?” 


156 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


“ I think so,” said the officer, who had bent over 
Tam. ‘‘ We’ll have him aboard in a minute, and see 
what the doctor can do with him. You seem to have 
had a narrow escape.” 

Arthur was too busy endeavoring to stanch the 
blood which flowed fast from poor Tam’s side to 
make much reply, but Ulysse, perched on the officer’s 
knee, was answering for him in mixed English and 
French. Moi^ je suis le Chemlier de BowrTce! 
My papa is ambassador to Sweden. This gentleman 
is his secretary. We were shipwrecked — and M. 
Arture and I swam away together. The Moors 
were good to us, and wanted to make lis Moors ; but 
M. Arture said it would be wicked. And Yusuf 
bought him for a slave; but that was only from 
faire la comedie. He is Ion Chretien after all, and 
so is poor Fareek, only he is dumb. Yusuf — that 
is, Tam — made me all black, and changed me for 
his little negro boy ; and we got into the boat, and 
it was very hot, and oh ! I am so thirsty. And now 
M. Arture will take me to Monsieur mon Pere, and 
get me some nice clothes again,” concluded the young 
gentleman, who, in this moment of return to civilized 
society, had become perfectly aware of his own rank 
and importance. 

Arthur only looked up to verify the child’s state- 
ments, which had much struck the lieutenant. Their 
boat had by this time been towed alongside of the 
frigate, and poor Tam was hoisted on board, and 
the surgeon was instantly at hand ; but he said at 
once that the poor fellow was fast dying, and that 
it would be useless torture to carry him below for ex- 
amination. 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


157 


A few words passed with the captain, and then the 
little chevalier was led away to tell his own tale, 
which he was doing with a full sense of his own im- 
portance ; but presently the captain returned, and 
beckoned to Arthur, who had been kneeling beside 
poor Tam, moistening his lips and bathing his face, 
as he lay gasping and apparently unconscious, except 
that he had gripped hold of his broad sash or girdle 
when it was taken off. 

“The child tells me he is Comte de Bourke’s 
son,’’ said the captain in a tentative manner, as if 
doubtful whether he should be understood, and 
certainly Arthur looked more Moorish than Euro- 
pean. 

“ Yes, sir. He was on his way with his mother 
to join his father when we were taken by a Moorish 
corsair.” 

“But you are not French?” said the captain, rec- 
ognizing the tones. 

“ No, sir ; Scottish — Arthur Maxwell Hope. I was 
to have gone as the count’s secretary.” 

“You have escaped from the Moors? I could not 
understand what the boy said. Where are the lady 
and the rest ?” 

Arthur as briefly as he could, for he was very anx- 
ious to return to poor Tam, explained the wreck 
and the subsequent adventures, saying that he feared 
the poor countess was lost, but that he had seen her 
daughter and some of her suite on a rock. Captain 
Beresford was horrified at the idea of a Christian 
child among the wild Arabs. His station was 
Minorca, but he had just been at the Bay of Kosas, 
where poor Comte de Bourke’s anxiety and distress 


158 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


about his wife and children were known, and he 
had received a request amounting to orders to try 
to obtain intelligence about them, so that he held it 
to be within his duty to make at once for Djigheli 
Bay. 

For further conversation was cut short by sounds 
of articulate speech from poor Tam. Arthur turned 
hastily, and the captain proceeded to give his or- 
ders. 

“ Is Maister Hope here f ’ 

“Here! Yes. O Tam, dear Tam, if I could do 
anything 1” cried Arthur. 

“ I canna see that well,” said Tam, with a sound 
of anxiety. “ Where’s my sash ?” 

“ This is it, in your own hand,” said Arthur, think- 
ing he was wandering, but the other hand sought 
one of the ample folds, which was sewn over, and 
weighty. 

“Tak’ it; tak’ tent of it; ye’ll need the siller. 
Four hundred piastres of Tunis, not countin’ zec- 
chins, and other sma’ coin.” 

“ Shall I send them to any one at Eyemouth ?” ^ 

Tam almost laughed. “Na, na ; keep them and 
use them yersell, sir. There’s nane at hame that 
wad own puir Tam. The leddy, your mither, an’ 
you hae been mair to me tlian a’ beside that’s above 
ground, and what wad ye do wi’out the siller?” 

“ O Tam ! I owe all and everything to you. 
And now — ” 

Tam looked up, as Arthur’s utterance was choked, 
and a great tear fell on his face. “ Wha wad hae 
said,” murmured he, “ that a son of Burnside wad be 
greetin’ for Partan Jeannie’s son ?” 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


159 


‘‘For my best friend. What have you not saved 
me from ! and I can do nothing !” 

“Nay, sir. Say but thae words again.” 

“Oh, for a clergyman! Or if I^had a Bible to 
read you the promises.” 

“ You shall have one,” said the captain, who had 
returned to his side. The surgeon muttered that the 
lad seemed as good as a parson ; but Arthur heard 
him not, and was saying what prayers came to his 
mind in this stress, when, even as the captain re- 
turned, the last struggle came on. Once more Tam 
looked up, saying, “Ye’ll be good to puir Fareek;” 
and with a word more, “ Oh, Christ : will he save 
such as I ?” all was over. 

“Come away, you can do nothing more,” said the 
doctor. “You want looking to yourself.” 

For Arthur tottered as he tried to^rise, and need- 
ed the captain’s kind hand as he gained his feet. 
“ Sir,” he said, as the tears gushed to his eyes, “ he 
does deserve all honor — my only friend and de- 
liverer.” 

“ I see,” said Captain Beresford, much moved ; 
“ whatever he has been, he died a Christian. He 
shall have Christian burial. And this fellow ?” point- 
ing to poor Fareek, whose grief was taking vent in 
moans and sobs. 

“Christian — Abyssinian, but dumb,” Arthur ex- 
plained ; and having his promise that all respect 
should be paid to poor Tam’s corpse, he let the doc- 
tor lead him away, for he had now time to feel how 
sun-scorched and exhausted he was, with giddy, ach- 
ing head, and legs cramped and stiff, arms strained 
and shoulders painful after his three days and nights 


160 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


of the boat. His thirst, too, seemed unquenchable, 
in spite of drinks almost unconsciously taken, and, 
though hungry, he had little will to eat. 

The surgeon made him take a warm bath, and 
then fed him with soup, after which, on a prom- 
ise of being called in due time, he consented to 
deposit himself in a hammock, and presently fell 
asleep. 

When he awoke he found that clothes had been 
provided for him — naval uniforms; but that could 
not be helped, and the comfort w^as great. He was 
refreshed, but still very stiff. However, he dressed 
and was just ready, when the surgeon came to see 
whether he were in condition to be summoned, for 
it was near sundown, and all hands were piped up to 
attend poor Tam’s funeral rites. His generous and 
faithful deed hf^d eclipsed the memory that he was a 
renegade, and, indeed, it had been in such ignorance 
that he had had little to deny. 

All the sailors stood as respectfully as if he had 
been one of themselves while the captain read a por- 
tion of the burial office. Such honors would never 
have been his in his native land, where at that time 
even Episcopalians themselves could not have vent- 
ured on any out-door rites; and Arthur was thus 
doubly struck and impressed, when, as the corpse, 
sewn in sail-cloth and heavily weighted, was launched 
into the blue waves, he heard the words committing 
the body to the deep till the sea should give up her 
dead, he longed to be able to translate them to poor 
Fareek, who was weeping and howling so inconsola- 
bly as to attest how good a master he had lost. 

Perhaps Tam’s newly-found or recovered Chris- 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


161 


tianity might have been put to hard shocks as to the 
virtues he had learned among the Moslems. At 
any rate, Arthur often had reason to declare in after- 
life that the poor renegade might have put many a 
better-trained Christian to shame. 

11 


CHAPTER X. 

ON BOARD THE “ CALYPSO.” 

“ From whence this youth ? 

His country, name, and birth declared !” — Scott. 

« Toir had forgotten this legacy, Mr. Hope,” said 
Captain Beresford, taking Arthur into his cabin, 

“ and, judging by its weiglit, it is hardly to be neg- 
lected. I put it into my locker for security.” 

“Thank you, sir,” said Arthur. “The question 
is whether I ought to take it. I wished for your ad- 
vice.” 

“I beard what passed,” said the captain. “I 
should call your right as complete as if you had a 
will made by half a dozen lawyers. When we get 
into port, a few pounds to the ship’s company to 
drink your health, and all will be right. Will you 
count it?” 

The folds were undone, and little piles made of 
the gold, but neither the captain nor Arthur were 
much the wiser. The purser might have computed 
it, but Captain Beresford did not propose this, think- 
ing, perhaps, that it was safer that no report of a 
treasure should get abroad in the ship. 

He made a good many inquiries, which he had de- 
ferred till Arthur should be in a fitter condition for 
answering, first about the capture and wreck, and 
what the young man had been able to gather about 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


163 


the Cabeleyzes. Then, as the replies showed that 
he had a gentleman before him, Captain Beresford 
added that he could not help asking, “ Que didble 
allait ilfaire dans cetie gallreV'^ 

“ Sir,” said Arthur, “ I do not know whether you 
will think it your duty to make me a prisoner, but I 
had better tell you the whole truth.” 

“ Oho !” said the captain ; “ but you are too 
young! You could never have been out with — 
with — we’ll call him the Chevalier.” 

“I ran away from school,” replied Arthur, col- 
oring. “ I was a mere boy, and I never was at- 
tainted,” explained Arthur, blushing. “ I have been 
with my Lord Nithsdale, and my mother thought 
I could safely come home, and that if 1 came from 
Sweden my brother could not think I compromised 
him.” 

“Your brother?” 

“ Lord Burnside. He is at court, in favor, they 
say, with King George. He is my half-brother ; my 
mother is a Maxwell.” 

“ There is a Hope in garrison at Port Mahon — a 
captain,” said the captain. “Perhaps he will ad- 
vise you what to do if you are sick of Jacobite 
intrigue and mystery, and ready to serve King 
George.” 

Arthur’s face lighted up. “Will it be James 
Hope of By eland, or Dickie Hope of the Lynn, 
or — ?” 

Captain Beresford held up his hands. 

“ Time must show that, my young friend,” he 
said, smiling. “ And now I think the officers expect 
you to join their mess in the gunroom.” 


164 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


There Arthur found the little chevalier strutting 
about in an adaptation of the smallest midshipman’s 
uniform, and the centre of an admiring party, who 
were equally diverted by his consequential airs and 
by his accounts of his sports among the Moors. 
Happy fellow, he could adapt himself to any society, 
and was ready to be the pet and plaything of the 
ship’s company, believing himself, when he thought 
of anything beyond the present, to be full on the 
road to his friends again. 

Fareek was a much more difficult charge, for 
Arthur had hardly a word that he could understand. 
He found the poor fellow coiled up in a corner, just 
where he had seen his former master’s remains dis- 
appear, still moaning and weeping bitterly. As 
Arthur called to him he looked up for a moment, 
then crawled forward, striking his forehead at inter- 
vals against the deck. He was about to kiss the 
feet of his former fellow-slave, the glittering gold, 
blue, and white of whose borrowed dress no doubt 
impressed him. Arthur hastily started back, to the 
amazement of the spectators, and called out a nega- 
tive — one of the words sure to be first learned. He 
tried to take Fareek’s hand and raise him from his 
abject attitude ; but the poor fellow continued kneel- 
ing, and not only were no words available to tell him 
that he was free, but it was extremely doubtful 
whether freedom was any boon to him. One thing, 
however, he did evidently understand — he pointed 
to the St. George’s pennant with the red cross, made 
the sign, looked an interrogation, and on Arthur’s 
reply, “ Christians,” and reiteration of the word “ Sa- 
1am,” he folded his arms and looked reassured. 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


165 


ay, my hearty,” said the big boatswain, 
“ye’ve got under the old flag, and we’H soon make 
you see the difference. Cut out your poor tongue, 
have they, the rascals, and made a dummy of you ? 
I wish my cat was about tlieir ears! .Come along 
with you, and you shall And what British grog is 
made of.” 

And a remarkable friendship arose between the 
two, the boatswain patronizing Fareek on every oc- 
casion, and roaring at him as if he were deaf as well 
as dumb, and Fareek appearing quite confident un- 
der his protection, and establishing a system of signs, 
which were fortunately a universal language. The 
Abyssinian evidently viewed himself as young 
Hope’s servant or slave, probably thinking himself 
part of his late master’s bequest, and tliere was no 
common language between them in which to explain 
the difference or ascertain the poor fellow’s wishes. 
He was a slightly-made, dexterous man, probably 
about five-and-twenty years of age, and he caught 
up very quickly, by imitation, the care he could take 
of Arthur’s clothes, and the habit of waiting on him 
at meals. 

Meantime the Calypso held her course to the 
southeast, till the chart declared the coast to be that 
of Djigheli Bay, and Arthur recognized the head- 
lands whither the unfortunate tartan had drifted to 
her destruction. Anchoring outside tlie bay. Cap- 
tain Beresford sent the first lieutenant, Mr. Bullock, 
in the long boat, with Arthur and a well-armed 
force, with instructions to offer no violence, but to 
reconnoitre; and if they found Mademoiselle de 
Bourke, or any others of the party, to do their best 


166 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


for their release by promises of ransom or represen- 
tations of the consequences of detaining them. Ar- 
thur was prepared to offer his own piastres at once 
in case of need of immediate payment. He was by 
this- time tolerably versed in the vernacular of the 
Mediterranean, and a cook’s boy, shipped at Gibraltar, 
was also supposed to be capable of interpreting. 

The beautiful bay, almost realizing the descrip- 
tion of ^Eneas’s landing-place, lay before them, the 
still, green waters within reflecting the fantastic 
rocks and the wreaths of verdure which crowned 
them, while the white mountain-tops rose like clouds 
in the far distance against the azure sky. Arthur 
could only, however, think of all this fair scene as a 
cruel prison, and those sliarp rocks as the jaws of a 
trap, when he saw the ribs of the tartan still 
jammed into the rock where she had struck, and 
where he had saved the two children as tliey were 
washed up the hatchway. He saw the rock where 
the other three had clung, and where he had left the 
little girl. He remembered the crowd of howling, 
yelling savages, leaping and gesticulating on the 
beach, and his heart trembled as he wondered how 
it had ended. 

Where were the Cabeleyzes who had thus greeted 
them ? The bay seemed perfectly lonely. Not a 
sound was to be heard but the regular dip of the 
oars, the cry of a startled bird, and the splash of a 
flock of seals, which had been sunning themselves on 
the shore, and which floundered into the sea like 
Proteus’s flock of yore before Ulysses. Would that 
Proteus himself had still been there to be captured 
and interrogated ! For the place was so entirely 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


167 


deserted that, saving for the remains of the wreck, 
he must have believed himself mistaken in the 
locality, and the lieutenant began to question him 
whether it had been daylight when he came ashore. 

Could the natives have hidden themselves at sight 
of an armed vessel ? Mr. Bullock resolved on land- 
ing, very cautiously, and with a sufficient guard. 
On the shore some fragments of broken boxes and 
packing-cases appeared ; and a sailor pointed out the 
European lettering painted on one — . . . sse de B . . . 
It plainly was part of the address of the Comtesse 
de Bourke. This encouraged the party in their 
search. They ascended the path which poor Hdbert 
and Lanty Callaghan had so often painfully climbed, 
and found themselves before the square of reed 
hovels, also deserted, but with black marks where 
tires had been lighted, and with traces of recent 
habitation. 

Arthur picked up a rag of the Bourke livery, and 
another of a brocade which he had seen the poor 
countess wearing. Was this all the relic that he 
should ever be able to take to her husband ? 

He peered about anxiously in hopes of discovering 
further tokens, and Mr. Bullock was becoming im- 
patient of his lingering, when suddenly his eye was 
struck by a score on the bark of a chestnut-tree like 
a cross, cut with a feeble hand. Beneath, close to 
the trunk, was a stone, beyond the corner of which 
appeared a bit of paper. He pounced upon it. It 
was the title-page of Estelle’s precious T^lemaque, 
and on the back was written in French, ‘‘ If any good 
Christian ever finds this, I pray him to carry it to 
M. the French consul at Algiers. We are five poor 


168 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


prisoners, the Abbe de St. Eudoce, Estelle, daughter 
of the Comte de Bourke, and our servants, Jacques 
Hdbert, Laurent Callaghan, Yictorine Kenouf. The 
Cabelejzes are taking us away to their mountains. 
We are in slavery, in hunger, tilth, and deprivation 
of all things. We pray day and night that the good 
God will send some one to rescue us, for we are in 
great misery, and they persecute us to make us deny 
our faith. O, whoever you may be, come and deliver 
us while we are yet alive.” 

Arthur was almost choked with tears as he trans- 
lated this piteous letter to the lieutenant, and recol- 
lected the engaging, enthusiastic little maiden, as he 
had seen her on the Khone, but now brought to 
such a state. He implored Mr. Bullock to pursue 
the track up the mountain, and was grieved at this 
being treated as absurdly impossible, but then recol- 
lecting himself, “You could not, sir, but I might 
follow her and make them understand that she must 
be saved — ” 

“ And give them another captive,” said Bullock ; 
“I thought you had had enough of that. You will 
do more good to this flame of yours — ” 

“Ho flame, sir. She is a mere child, little older 
than her brother. But she must not remain among 
these lawless savages.” 

“No! But we don’t throw the helve after the 
hatchet, my lad 1 All you can do is to take this 
epistle to tlie French consul, who might And it hard 
to understand without your explanations. At any 
rate, my orders are to bring you safe on board again.” 

Arthur had no choice but to submit, and Captain 
Beresford, who had a wife and children at home, was 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


169 


greatly touched by the sight of the childish writing 
of the poor little motherless girl ; above all when 
Arthur explained that the high-sounding title of 
Abbe de St. Eudoce only meant one who was more 
likely to be a charge than a help to her. 

France was for the nonce allied with England, and 
the dread of passing to Sweden through British seas 
liad apparently been quite futile, since, if Captain 
Beresford recollected the Irish blood of the count, it 
was only as an additional cause for taking interest in 
him. Towards the Moorish pirates the interest of 
the two nations united them. It was intolerable to 
think of the condition of the captives; and the cap- 
tain, anxious to lose no time, rejoiced that his orders 
were such as to justify him in sailing at once for 
Algiers to take effectual measures with the consul 
before letting the family know the situation of the 
poor Demoiselle de Bourke. 


CHAPTEK XI. 

THE PIRATE CITY. 

“ With dazed vision unawares 
From the long alley’s latticed shade 
Emerged, I came upon the great 
Pavilion of the Caliphat. 

Right to the carven cedarn doors, 

Flung inward over spangled floors, 

Broad-based flights of marble stairs 
Ran up with golden balustrade, 

After the fashion of the time. 

And humor of the golden prime 
Of good Haroun Alraschid.” 

— Tennyson, 

Civilized and innocuous existence has no doubt 
been a blessing to Algiers as well as to the entire 
Mediterranean, but it has not improved the pict- 
uresqneness of its aspect any more than the wild and 
splendid “ tiger, tiger burning bright,” would be 
more ornamental with his claws pared, the fiery 
gleam of his yellow eyes quenched, and his spirit 
tamed, so as to render him only an exaggerated 
domestic cat. The steamer, whether of peace or 
war, is a melancholy substitute for the splendid 
though sinister galley, with her ranks of oars and 
towers of canvas, or for the dainty, lateen-sailed ves- 
sels, skimming the waters like flying-fish, and the 
Frank garb ill replaces the graceful Arab dress. The 
Paris-like block of houses ill replaces the graceful 
Moorish architecture, undisturbed when the Calypso 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


171 


sailed into the harbor, and the amphitheatre - like 
city rose before her, in successive terraces of dazzling 
white, interspersed with palms and other trees here 
and there, with mosques and minarets rising above 
them, and with a crown of strong fortifications. The 
harbor itself was protected by a strongly-fortified 
mole, and some parley passed with the governor of 
the strong and grim-looking castle adjacent — a huge 
round tower erected by the Spaniards, and showing 
three ranks of brazen teeth in the shape of guns. 

Finally, the Algerines having been recently 
brought to their bearings, as Captain Beresford 
said, entrance was permitted, and the Calypso en- 
joyed the shelter of the mole ; while he, in full-dress 
uniform, took boat and went ashore, and with him 
the two escaped prisoners. Fareek remained on 
board till the English consul could be consulted on 
his fate. 

England and France were on curious terms with 
Algiers. The French had bombarded the city in 
1686, and had obtained a treaty by which a consul 
constantly resided in the city, and the persons and 
property of French subjects were secured from 
piracy, or if captured were always released. The 
English had made use of the possession of Gibraltar 
and Minorca to enforce a like treaty. There was 
a little colony of European merchants — English, 
French, and Dutch — in the lower town, near the 
harbor, above which the Arab town rose, as it still 
rises, in a steep stair. Ships of all these nations 
traded at the port, and quite recently the English 
consul, Thomas Thompson by name, had vindicated 
the honor of his flag by citing before the dey a man 


172 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


who had insulted him on the narrow causeway of the 
mole. The Moor was sentenced to receive twenty- 
two hundred strokes of bastinado on the feet, one 
thousand the first day, twelve hundred on the second ; 
and he died in consequence, so that Englishmen 
safely walked the narrow streets. The dey who had 
inflicted this punishment was, however, lately dead. 
Mehemed had been elected and installed by the chief 
janizaries, and it remained to be proved whether he 
would show himself equally anxious to be on good 
terms with the Christian powers. 

Arthur’s heart had learned to beat at sight of the 
British ensign with emotions very unlike those with 
which he had seen it wave at Sheriffmuir; but it 
looked strange above the low walls of a Moorish 
house, plain outside, but with a richly cusped and 
painted horseshoe arch at the entrance to a lovely 
cloistered court, with a sparkling fountain surrounded 
by orange-trees with fruit of all shades from green 
to gold. Servants in white garments and scarlet 
fezzes, black, brown, or white (by courtesy), seemed 
to swarm in all directions; and one of them called 
a youth in European garb, but equally dark-faced 
with the rest, and not too good an English scholar. 
However, he conducted them through a still more 
beautiful court, lined with brilliant mosaics in the 
spandrels of the exquisite arches supported on slen- 
der, shining marble columns. 

Mr. Thompson’s English coat and hearty English 
face looked incongruous, as at sight of the blue-and- 
white uniform he came forward with all the hospita- 
ble courtesy due to a post-captain. There was shak- 
ing of hands, and doflSng of cocked hats, and calling 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


173 


for wine and pipes and coffee, in the Alhambra-like 
hall, where a table covered with papers tied with red 
tape, in front of a homely leathern chair, looked 
more homelike than suitable. Other chairs there 
were for Frank guests, who preferred them to the 
divan and piles of cushions on which the Moors 
transacted business. 

“What can I do for you, sir?” he asked of the 
captain, “or for this little master,” he added, look- 
ing at Ulysse, who was standing by Arthur. “He 
is serving the king early.” 

“ I don’t belong to your King George,” broke out 
the young gentleman. “He is an usurpateur, I 
have only this uniform on till I can get my proper 
clothes. I am the son of the Comte de Bourke, am- 
bassador to Spain and Sweden. I serve no one but 
King Louis!” 

“ That is plain to be seen,” said Mr. Thompson. 
“ The Gallic cock crows early. But is he indeed the 
son of Count Bourke about whom the French consul 
has been in such trouble?” 

“Even so, sir,” replied the captain. “I am come 
to ask you to present him, with this gentleman, Mr. 
Hope, to your French colleague. Mr. Hope, to whom 
the child’s life and liberty are alike owing, has infor- 
mation to give which may lead to the rescue of the 
boy’s sister and uncle, with their servants.” 

Mr. Thompson had heard of a Moorish galley com- 
ing in with an account of having lost a Genoese 
prize, with ladies on board, in the late storm. He 
was sure that the tidings Mr. Hope brought would 
be most welcome, but he knew that the French con- 
sul was gone up with a distinguished visitor, M. Des- 


174 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


sault, for an audience of the dey; and, in the mean- j 
time, his guests must dine with him. And Arthur 
narrated his adventures. 

The consul shook his head when he heard of Dji- i 
gheli Bay. ' 

“ Those fellows, the Cabeleyzes, hate the French, j 
and make little enough of the dey, though they do i 
send home Moors who fall into their hands. Did | 
you see a ruined fort on a promontory? That was j 
the Bastion de France. The old King Louis put it I 
up and garrisoned it, but those rogues contrived a j 

surprise and made four hundred prisoners, and ever | 

since they have been neither to have nor to hold. 
Well for you, young gentleman, that you did not 
fall into their hands, but those of the country Moors 
— very decent folk — descended, they say, from the 
Spanish Moors. A renegade got you off, did he? 
Yes, they will sometimes do that, though at an awful 
risk. If they are caught they are hung up alive on 
hooks to the walls. You had an escape, I can tell 
you, and so had he, poor fellow, of being taken alive.” 

“ He knew the risk,” said Arthur, in a low voice ; 
“but my mother had once been good to him, and he 
dared everything for me.” 

The consul readily estimated Arthur’s legacy as 
amounting to little less than £200, and was also 
ready to give him bills of exchange for it. The . 
next question was as to Fareek. To return him to 
his own country was impossible ; and though the 
consul offered to buy him of Arthur, not only did 
the young Scot revolt at the idea of making traffic of 
the faithful fellow, but Mr. Thompson owned that 
there might be some risk in Algiers of his being 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


175 


recognized as a runaway ; and, though this was very 
slight, it was better not to give any cause of offence. 
Captain Beresford thought the poor man might be 
disposed of at Port Mahon, and Arthur kept to him- 
self that Tain’s bequest was sacred to him. His next 
wish was for clothes to which he might have a better 
right than to the uniform of the senior midshipman 
of H.M.S. Calypso — a garb in which he did not like 
to appear before the French consul. Mr. Thompson 
consulted his Greek clerk, and a chest belonging to 
a captured merchantman, which had been claimed as 
British property, but had not found an owner, was 
opened, and proved to contain a wardrobe sufficient 
to equip Arthur like other gentlemen of the day, in 
a dark crimson coat, with a little gold lace about it, 
and the rest of the dress white, a wide beaver hat, 
looped up with a rosette, and everything, indeed, ex- 
cept shoes, and he was obliged to retain those of the 
senior midshipman. With his dark hair tied back, 
and a suspicion of powder, he found himself more 
like the youth whom Lady Nithsdale had introduced 
in Madame de Varennes’ salon than he had felt .for 
the last month ; and, moreover, his shyness and awk- 
wardness had in great measure disappeared during 
his vicissitudes, and he had made many steps towards 
manhood. 

Ulysse had in the meantime been consigned to the 
kind, motherly, portly Mrs. Thompson, who, accus- 
tomed as she was to hearing of strange adventures, 
was aghast at what the child had undergone, and 
was enchanted with the little French gentleman who 
spoke English so well, and to whom his grand-seign- 
eur airs returned by instinct in contact with a Euro- 


176 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


pean lady; but his eye instantly sought Arthur, nor 
would he be content without a seat next to his pro- 
tector at the dinner, early as were all dinners then, 
and a compound of Eastern and Western dishes, the 
latter very welcotne to the travellers, and affording 
the consul’s wife themes of discourse on her difficul- 
ties in compounding them. 

Pipes, siesta, and coffee followed, Mr. Thompson 
assuring them that his French colleague would not 
be ready to receive them till after the like repose 
had been undergone, and that he had already sent a 
billet to announce their coming. 

The French consulate was not distant. The^'^^r- 
de-lis waved over a house similar to Mr. Thompson’s, 
but they were admitted with greater ceremony, when 
Mr. Thompson at length conducted them. Servants 
and slaves, brown and black, clad in white with blue 
sashes, and white officials in blue liveries, were drawn 
up in the first court in two lines to receive them ; 
and the chevalier, taking it all to himself, paraded 
in front with the utmost grandeur, until, at the next 
archway, two gentlemen, resplendent in gold lace, 
came forward with low bows. At sight of the little 
fellow there were cries of joy. M. Dessault spread 
out his arms, clasped the child to his breast, and shed 
tears over him, so that the less emotional English- 
men thought at first that they must be kinsmen. 
However, Arthur came in for a like embrace as the 
boy’s preserver; and if Captain Beresford had not 
stepped back and looked un comprehending and rigid 
he might have come in for the same. 

Seated in the veranda, Arthur told his tale and 
presented the letter, over which there were more 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


177 


tears; as, indeed, well there might be over the con- 
dition of the little girl and her simple mode of de- 
scribing it. It was nearly a month since the corsair 
had arrived, and the story of the Genoese tartan 
being captured and lost, with French ladies on board, 
had leaked out. The French consul bad himself 
seen and interrogated the Dutch renegade captain, 
had become convinced of the identity of the unfort- 
unate passengers, and had given up all hopes of 
them, so that he greeted the boy as one risen from 
the dead. 

To know that the boy’s sister and uncle were still 
in the hands of the Cabeleyzes was almost worse 
news than the death of his mother, for this wild 
Arab tribe had a terrible reputation even among the 
Moors and Turks. 

The only thing that could be devised after consul- 
tation between the two consuls, the French envoy, 
and the English captain, was that an audience should 
be demanded of the dej^ and Estelle’s letter present- 
ed, the next morning. Meanwhile Arthur and Ulysse 
were to remain as guests at the English consulate. 
The French one would have made them welcome, 
l)ut there was no lady in his house ; and Mrs. Thomp- 
son had given Arthur a hint that his little charge 
would be the better for womanly care. 

There was further consultation whether young 
Hope, as a runaway slave — who had, however, car- 
ried off a relapsed renegade with him — would be 
safe on shore beyond the precincts of the consulate; 
but as no one had any claim on him, and it might 
be desirable to have his evidence at hand, it was 
thought safe that he should remain, and Captain 
12 


178 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


Beresford promised to come ashore in the morning 
to join the petitioners to the dey. 

Perhaps he was not sorry, any more than was Ar- 
thur, for the opportunity of beliolding the wonderful 
city and palace, which were like a dream of beauty. 
He came ashore early, with two or three officers, all 
in full uniform; and, the audience having been 
granted, the whole party — consuls, M. Dessault, and 
their attendants — mounted the steep, narrow stone 
steps leading up the hill between the walls of houses 
with fantastically carved doorways or lattices; while 
bare -legged Arabs niched themselves into every 
coigne of vantage with baskets of fruit or eggs, or 
else embroidering pillows and slippers with exquisite 
taste. 

The beauty of the buildings was unspeakable, and 
they projected enough to make a cool shade — only 
a narrow fragment of deep-blue sky being visible 
above them. The party did not, however, ascend 
the wliole four hundred and ninety-seven steps, as 
the abode of the dey was then not the citadel, 
but the palace of Djenina, in the heart of the city. 
Turning aside, they made their way thither over ter- 
races partly in the rock, partly on the roofs of houses. 

Fierce -looking janizaries, splendidly equipped, 
guarded the entrance, with an air so proud and con- 
sequential as to remind Arthur of poor Yusufs as- 
surances of the magnificence that might await little 
XJlysse as an aga of that corps. Even as they ad- 
mitted the infidels they looked defiance at them 
from under the manifold snowy folds of their mighty 
turbans. 

If the beauty of the consuls’ houses had struck 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


179 


and startled Arthur, far more did the region into 
which he was now admitted seem like a dream of 
fairy-land as he passed through ranks of orange-trees 
round sparkling fountains — worthy of Yersailles it- 
self — courts surrounded with cloisters, sparkling with 
priceless mosaics, in those brilliant colors which East- 
ern taste alone can combine so as to avoid gaudiness, 
arches and columns of ineffable grace and richness, 
halls with domes emulating the sky, or else ceiled with 
white marble lacework, whose tracery seemed delicate 
and varied as the richest Venice point! But the 
wonderful beauty seemed to him to have in it some- 
thing terrible and weird, like that fairy-land of his 
native country, whose glory and charm are over- 
shadowed by the knowledge of the teinds to be paid 
to hell. It was an unnatural, incomprehensible world ; 
and from longing to admire and examine he only 
wished to be out of it, felt it a relief to fix his eyes 
upon the uniforms of the captain and the consuls, and 
did not wonder that Ulysse, instead of proudly head- 
ing the procession, shrank up to him and clasped his 
hand as his protector. 

The human figures were as strange as the archi- 
tecture; the glittering of janizaries in the outer 
court, which seemed a sort of guardroom, the lines of 
those on duty in the next, and in the third court the 
black slaves in white garments, enhancing the black- 
ness of their limbs, each with a formidable curved 
scimitar. At the golden cusped archway beyond, 
all had to remove theji* shoes as though entering a 
mosque. The consuls bade the new-comers submit to 
this, adding that it was only since the recent victory 
that it had not been needful to lay aside the swora 


180 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


on entering the dey’s august presence. The chamber 
seemed to the eyes of the strangers one web of magic 
splendor — gold-crusted lacework above, arches on one 
side open to a beauteous garden, and opposite semi- 
circles of richly-robed janizary officers, all culminat- 
ing in a dazzling throne, where sat a white-turbaned 
figure, before whom the visitors all had to bow lower 
than European independence could well brook. 

The dey’s features w’ere not very distinctly seen at 
the distance where etiquette required them to stand; 
but Arthur thought him hardly worthy to be master 
of such fine-looking beings as Abou Ben Zegri and 
many others of the Moors, being in fact a little sturdy 
Turk, with Tartar features, not nearly so graceful as 
the Moors and Arabs, nor so handsome and imposing 
as the janizaries of Circassian blood. 

Turkish was the court language ; and even if he 
understood any other, an interpreter was a necessary 
part of the etiquette. M. Dessault instructed the in- 
terpreter, who understood with a readiness wWch be- 
trayed that he was one of the many renegades in the 
Algerine service. 

The dey was too dignified to betray much emotion ; 
but he spoke a few words, and these were understood 
to profess his willingness to assist in the matter. A 
richly-clad official, who was, Mr. Thompson whis- 
pered, a secretary of state, came to attend the party 
in a smaller but equally beautiful room, where pipes 
and coffee were served, and a consultation took place 
with the two consuls, which was, of course, incompre- 
hensible to the anxious listeners. M. Dessault’s in- 
terest was deeply concerned in the matter, since he 
was a connection of the Yarennes family, to which 
poor Madame de Bourke belonged. 


A MODERN TELEMACHUa 


181 


Commands from the dey, it was presently ex- 
plained, would be utterly disregarded by these wild 
mountaineers — nay, would probably lead to the mur- 
der of the captives in defiance. But it was known 
that if these wild beings paid deference to any one, 
it was to the Grand Marabout at Bugia; and the sec- 
retary promised to send a letter in the dey’s name, 
which, with a considerable present, might induce him 
to undertake the negotiation. Therewith the audi- 
ence terminated, after M. Dessault had laid a splendid 
diamond snuff-box at the feet of the secretary. 

The consuls were somewhat disgusted at the no- 
tion of having recourse to the Marabouts, whom the 
French consul called vilains charlatan^ and the Eng- 
lish one filthy scoundrels and impostors. Like the 
Indian fakirs, opined Captain Beresford ; like the 
begging friars, said M. Dessault, and to this the con- 
suls assented. Just, however, as the Dominicans, be- 
sides the low class of barefooted friars, had a learned 
and cultivated set of brethren in high repute at the 
Universities, and a general at Rome, so it appeared 
that the Marabouts, besides their wild crew of mas- 
terful beggars, living at free quarters, partly through 
pretended sanctity, partly through the awe inspired 
by cabalistic arts, had a higher class who dwelt in 
cities, and were highly esteemed, for the sake of either 
ten years’ abstinence from food or the attainment of 
fifty sciences, by one or other of which means an 
angelic nature was held to be attained. 

Fifty sciences! This greatly astonished the stran- 
gers, but they were told by the residents that all 
the knowledge of the highly cultivated Arabs of 
Bagdad and the Moors of Spain had been handed on 


183 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


to the select few of their African descendants, and 
that really beautiful poetry was still produced by the 
Marabouts. Certainly no one present could doubt 
of the architectural skill and taste of the Algerines, 
and Mr. Thompson declared that not a tithe of the 
wonders of their mechanical art had been seen, de- 
scribing the wonderful silver tree of Tlemcen, cov- 
ered with birds, who, by the action of wind, were 
made to produce the songs of each different species 
which they represented, till a falcon on the topmost 
branch uttered a harsh cry, and all became silent. 
General education had, however, fallen to a low ebb 
among the population, and the wisdom of the ancients 
was chiefly concentrated among the higher class of 
Marabouts, whose headquarters were at Bngia, and 
their present chief, Hadji Eseb Ben Hassan, had the 
reputation of a saint, which the consuls believed to 
be well founded. 

The Cabeleyzes, though most irregular Moslems, 
were extremely superstitious as regarded the super- 
natural arts supposed to be possessed by the Mara- 
bouts, and if these could be induced to take up the 
cause of the prisoners, there would be at least some 
chance of their success. 

And not long after the party had arrived at the 
French consulate, where they were to dine, a mes- 
senger arrived with a parcel rolled up in silk, em- 
broidered with gold, and containing a strip of paper 
beautifully emblazoned, and' in Turkish characters. 
The consul read it, and found it to be a reallj’’ strong 
recommendation to the Marabout to do his utmost 
for the servants of the dey’s brother, the King of 
France, now in the hands of the children of Shaitan. 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


183 


“Well purchased,” said M. Dessault though 
that snuff-box came from the hands of the Elector 
of Bavaria !” 

As soon as the meal was over, the French consul, 
instead of taking his siesta as usual, began to take 
measures for chartering a French tartan to go to 
Bugia immediately. He found there was great in- 
terest excited, not only among the Christian mer- 
chants, but among Turks, Moors, and Jews, so horri- 
ble was the idea of captivity among the Cabeleyzes. 
The dey set the example of sending down five purses 
of sequins towards the young lady’s ransom, and many 
more contributions came in unasked. It was true 
that the bearers expected no small consideration in 
return, but this was willingly given, and the feeling 
manifested was a perfect astonishment to all the 
friends at the consulate. 

The French national interpreter, Ibrahim Aga, was 
charged with the negotiations with the Marabout. 
Arthur entreated to go with him, and with some hes- 
itation this was agreed to, since the sight of an old 
friend might be needed to reassure any survivors of 
the poor captives — for it was hardly thought possible 
that all could still survive the hardships of the moun- 
tains in the depth of winter, even if they were spared 
by the ferocity of their captors. 

Ulysse, the little son and heir, was not to be ex- 
posed to the perils of the seas till his sister’s fate was 
decided, and accordingly he was to remain under the 
care of Mrs. Thompson ; while Captain Beresford 
meant to cruise about in the neighborhood, having a 
great desire to know the result of the enterprise, and 
hoping also that if Mademoiselle de Bourke still lived 


184 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


he might be permitted to restore her to her relations. 
Letters, clothes, and comforts were provided, and 
placed under the charge of the interpreter and of 
Arthur, together with a considerable gratuity for 
the Marabout, and authority for any ransom that 
Cabeleyze rapacity might require — still, however, 
with great doubt whether all might not be too late. 


CHAPTEK XII. 


ON THE MOUNTAINS. 

“We cannot miss him. He doth make our fire, 

Fetch in our wood, and serve in offices 
That profit us.” — Tempest. 

Bugia, though midway on the “ European lake,” is 
almost unknown to modern travellers, though it has 
become a French possession. 

It looked extremely beautiful when the French 
tartan entered it, rising from the sea like a magnifi- 
cent amphitheatre, at the foot of the mountains that 
circled round it, and guarded by stern battlemented 
castles, while the arches of one of the great old Ko- 
man aqueducts made a noble chord to the arc de- 
scribed by the lower part of the town. 

The harbor, a finer one naturally than that of Al- 
giers, contained numerous tartans^and other vessels, 
for, as Ibrahim Aga, who could talk French very 
well, informed Arthur, the inhabitants were good 
workers in iron, and drove a trade in ploughshares 
and other implements, besides wax and oil. But it 
was no resort of Franks, and he insisted that Arthur 
should only come on shore in a Moorish dress, which 
had been provided at Algiers. Thanks to young 
Hope’s naturally dark complexion and the exposure 
of the last month, he might very well pass for a Moor ; 
and he had learned to wear the white caftan, wide 
trousers, broad sash, and scarlet fez circled with mus- 


186 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. - 


lin SO naturally that he was not likely to be noticed 
as a European. 

The city, in spite of its external beauty, proved to 
be ruinous within, and in the midst of the Moorish 
houses and courts still were visible remnants of the 
old Koman town that had in past ages flourished there. 
Like Algiers, it had narrow, climbing streets, exclud- 
ing sunshine, and through these the guide* Ibrahim 
had secured led the way ; while in single file came 
the interpreter, Arthur, two black slaves bearing 
presents for the Marabout, and four men besides as 
escort. Once or twice there was a vista down a 
broader space, with an awning over it, where sell- 
ing and buying were going on, always of some single 
species of merchandise. 

Thus they arrived at one of those Moorish houses 
to whose beauty Arthur was becoming accustomed. 
It had, however, a less luxurious and graver aspect 
than the palaces of Algiers, and the green color 
sacred to the prophet prevailed in tlie inlaid work, 
which Ibrahim Aga told him consisted chiefly of 
maxims from the Koran. 

No soldiers were on guard, but there were a good 
many young men wholly clad in white — neophytes 
endeavoring to study the fifty sciences, mostly sitting 
on the ground, writing copies, either of the sacred 
books or of the treatises on science and medicine 
which had descended from time almost immemorial ; 
all rehearsed aloud what they learned or wrote, so as 
to produce a strange hum. A grave official, sim- 
ilarly clad, but with a green sash, came to meet them, 
and told them that the chief Marabout was sick; but 
on hearing from the interpreter that they were bear- 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


187 


ers of a letter from the dey, he went back with the 
intelligence, and presently returned salaaming very 
low, to introduce them to another of the large halls 
with lacework ceilings, where it was explained that 
the grand Marabout was, who was suffering from 
ague. The lit was passing off, and he would be able 
to attend to his honored guests as soon as they had 
partaken of the coffee and the pipes which were pre- 
sented to them. 

After a delay, very trying to Arthur’s anxiety, 
though beguiled by such coffee and tobacco as he 
was never likely to encounter again, Hadji Eseb Ben 
Hassan, a venerable-looking man, appeared, with a 
fine white beard and keen eyes, slenderly formed, 
and with an air of very considerable ability— much 
more so than the dey, in all his glittering splendor 
of gold, jewels, and embroidery, whereas this old 
man wore the pure white woollen garments of the 
Moor, with the green sash, and an emerald to fasten 
the folds of his white turban. 

Ibrahim Aga prostrated himself as if before the 
dey, and laid before the Marabout, as a first gift, a 
gold watch ; then, after a blessing had been given in 
return, he produced with great ceremony the dey’s 
letter, to which every one in the apartment did obei- 
sance by touching the fioor with their foreheads, and 
the Grand Marabout further rubbed it on his brow 
before proceeding to read it, which he chose to do 
for himself, chanting it out in a low, humming voice. 
It was only a recommendation, and the other letter 
was from the French consul containing all particu- 
lars. The Marabout seemed much startled, and inter- 
rogated the interpreter. Arthur could follow them 


188 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


in some degree, and presently the keen eye of the 
old man seemed to detect his interest, for there was 
a pointing to him, an explanation that he had been 
there, and presently Hadji Eseb addressed a question 
to him in the vernacular Arabic. He understood 
and answered, but the imperfect language or his looks 
betrayed him, for Hadji Eseb demanded, ‘‘ Thou art 
Frank, my son?’’ 

Ibrahim Aga, mortally afraid of the consequences 
of having brought a disguised Giaour into these 
sacred precincts, began what Arthur perceived to be 
a lying assurance of his having embraced Islam ; and 
he was on the point of breaking in upon the speech, 
when the Marabout observed his gesture, and said, 
gravely, “ My son, falsehood is not needed to shield 
a brave Christian ; a faithful worshipper of Issa Ben 
Mariam receives honor if he does justice and works 
righteousness according to his own creed, even though 
he be blind to the true faith. Is it true, good youth, 
that thou art not — as this man would have me be- 
lieve — one of the crew from Algiers, but art come to 
strive for the release of thy sister ?” 

Arthur gave the history as best he could, for his 
month’s practice had made him able to speak the 
vernacular so as to be fairly comprehensible, and the 
Marabout, who was evidently a man of very high 
•abilities, often met him half-way, and suggested the 
word at which he stumbled. He was greatly touched 
by the account, even in the imperfect manner in 
which the youth could give it; and there was no 
doubt that he was a man of enlarged mind and be- 
neficence,who had not only mastered the fifty sciences, 
but had seen something of the world. He had not 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


189 


only made his pilgrimage to Mecca more than once, 
but had been at Constantinople, and likewise at Tunis 
and Tripoli ; thus, with powers both acute and awake, 
he understood more than his countrymen of Euro- 
pean powers and their relation to one another. As 
a civilized and cultivated man he was horrified at 
the notion of the tenderly-nurtured child being in 
the clutches of savages like the Cabeleyzes; but the 
first difficulty was to find out where she was ; for, as 
he said, pointing towards the mountains, they were a 
wide space, and it would be like hunting a partridge 
on the hills. 

Looking at his chief councillor, Azim Reverdi, he 
demanded whether some of the wanderers of their 
order, whom he named, could not be sent through 
the mountains to discover where any such prisoners 
might be; but after going into the court in quest of 
these persons, Azim returned with tidings that a 
Turkish soldier had returned on the previous day to 
the town, and had mentioned that on Mount Couco, 
Sheik Abderrahman was almost at war with his sub- 
ordinates, Eyoub and Ben Yakoub, about some ship- 
wrecked Frank captives, if tliey had not already set- 
tled the matter by murdering them all, and, as was 
well knowm, this ignorant, lawless tribe could not be 
persuaded that nothing was more abhorrent to the 
prophet than human sacrifices. 

Azim had already sent two disciples to summon 
the Turk to the presence of the Grand Marabout, and 
in due time he appeared — a rough, heavy, truculent 
fellow enough, but making awkward salaams as one 
in great awe of the presence in which he stood ; un- 
willing awe, perhaps— full of superstitious fear tern- 


190 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


pered by pride — for the haughty Turks revolted 
against homage to one of the subject race of Moors. 

Ilis language was only now and then comprehen- 
sible to Arthur, but Ibrahim kept up a running trans- 
lation into French for his benefit. 

There were captives — infidels — saved from the 
wreck, he knew not how many, but he was sure of 
one — a little maid with hair like the unwound cocoon, 
so that they called her the Daughter of the Silkworm. 
It was about her that the chief struggle was. She 
had fallen to the lot of Ben Yakoub, who had been 
chestnut-gathering by the sea at the time of the 
wreck ; but when he arrived on Mount Couco the 
Sheik Abderrahman had claimed her and hers as the 
head of the tribe, and had carried her off to his own 
adowara in the valley of Ein Gebel. 

The Turk, Murad, had been induced by Yakoub 
to join him and sixteen more armed men whom he 
had got together to demand her. For it was he who 
had rescued her from the waves, carried her up the 
mountains, fed her all this time, and he would not 
have her snatched away from him, though for his 
part Murad thought it would have been well to be 
quit of them, for not only were they Giaours, but he 
verily believed them to be of the race of Jin ns. The 
little fair-haired maid had papers with strange signs 
on them. She wrote — actually wrote — a thing that 
he believed no Sultana Yelide even had ever been 
known to do at Stamboul. Moreover, she twisted 
strings about on her hands in a manner that was 
fearful to look at. It was said to be only to amuse 
the children, but for his part he believed it was for 
some evil spell. What was certain was that the 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


191 


other, a woman full grown, could, whenever any one 
offended her, raise a Jinn in a cloud of smoke, which 
caused such sneezing that she was lost sight of. And 
yet these creatures had so bewitched their captors 
that there were like to be hard blows before they 
were disposed of, unless his advice were taken to 
make an end of them altogether. Indeed, two of 
the men, the mad Santon and the chief slave, had 
been taken behind a bush to be sacrificed, when the 
Daughter of the Silkworm came between with her 
incantations, and fear came upon Sheik Yakoub. 
Murad evidently thought it highly advisable that the 
chief Marabout should intervene to put a stop to 
these doings, and counteract the mysterious influence 
exercised by these strange beings. 

High time, truly, Arthur and Ibrahim Aga like- 
wise felt it, to go to the rescue, since terror and jeal- 
ousy might, it appeared, at any time impel ces har- 
hares feroces^ as Ibrahim called them, to slaughter 
their prisoners. To their great joy, the Marabout 
proved to be of the same opinion, in spite of his sick- 
ness, which, being an intermitting ague, would leave 
him free for a couple of days, and might be driven 
off by the mountain air. He promised to set forth 
early the next day, and kept the young man and the 
interpreter as his guests for the night, Ibrahim going 
first on board to fetch the parcel of clothes and pro- 
visions which M. Dessault had sent for the abbe and 
Mademoiselle de Bourke, and for an instalment of 
the ransom, which the Hadji Eseb assured him might 
safely be carried under his own sacred protection. 

Arthur did not see much of his host, who seemed 
to be very busy consulting with his second in com- 


192 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


in and on the preparations, for probably the expedi- 
tion was a delicate undertaking, even for him, and 
his companions had to be carefully chosen. 

Ibrahim had advised Arthur to stay quietly where 
he was, and not venture into the city, and he spent 
his time as he best might by the belp of a narghile^ 
which was hospitably presented to him, though the 
strictness of Marabout life forbade the use alike of 
tobacco and coffee. 

Before dawn the courts of the house were astir. 
Mules, handsomely trapped, were provided to carry 
the principal persons of the party wherever it might 
be possible, and there were some spare ones, ridden 
at first by inferiors, but intended for the captives, 
should they be recovered. 

It was very cold, being the last week in Novem- 
ber, and all were wrapped in heavy woollen haiks 
over their white garments, except one wild-looking 
fellow, whose legs and arms were bare, and who only 
seemed to possess one garment of coarse dark sack- 
cloth. He skipped and ran by the side of the mules, 
chanting and muttering, and Ibrahim observed in 
French that he was one of the Sunakites, or fanatic 
Marabouts, and advised Arthur to beware of him; 
but, though dangerous in himself, his presence would 
be a suflScient protection from all other thieves or 
vagabonds. Indeed, Arthur saw the fellow glaring 
unpleasantly at him, when the sun summoned all 
the rest to their morning devotions. He was glad 
that he had made the fact of his Christianity known, 
for he could no more act Moslem than he one, and 
Hadji Eseb kept the Sunakite in check by a stern 
glance, so that no harm ensued. 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


193 


Afterwards Arthur was bidden to ride near the 
chief, who talked a good deal, asking intelligent 
questions. Gibraltar had impressed him greatlj’, and 
it also appeared that in one of his pilgrimages the 
merchant vessel he was in had been rescued from 
some Albanian pirates by an English ship, which 
held the Turks as allies, and thus saved them from 
undergoing vengeance for the sufferings of the 
Greeks. Thus the good old man felt that he owed 
a debt of gratitude which Allah required him to 
pay, even to the infidel. 

Up steep roads the mules climbed. The first 
night the halt was at a Cabyle village, where hospi- 
tality was eagerly offered to persons of such high 
reputation for sanctity as the Marabouts; but after- 
wards habitations grew more scanty as the ground 
rose higher, and there was no choice but to encamp 
in the tents brought by the attendants, and which 
seemed to Arthur a good exchange for the dirty 
Cabyle huts. 

Altogether the journey took six daj’s. The mules 
climbed along wild paths on the verge of giddy 
precipices, where even on foot Arthur would have 
hesitated to venture. The scenery w^ould now be 
thought magnificent, but it was simply frightful to 
the mind of the early eighteenth century, especially 
when a constant watch had to be kept to avoid the 
rush of stones, or avalanches, on an almost imper- 
ceptible, nearly perpendicular path, where it was 
needful to trust to the guidance of the Siinakite, the 
only one of the cavalcade who had been there be- 
fore. 

On the last day they found themselves on the 

13 


194 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


borders of a slope of pines and other mountain- 
growing trees, bordering a wide valley or ravine 
where the Sunakite hinted that Abderrahman might 
be found. 

The cavalcade pursued a path slightly indicated 
by the treading of feet and hoofs, and presently 
there emerged on them from a slighter side track 
between the red stems of the great pines a figure 
nearly bent double under the weight of two huge 
fagots, with a basket of great solid fir-cones on the 
top of them. Yery scanty garments seemed to be 
vouchsafed to him, and the bare arms and legs were 
so white, as well as of a length so unusual among 
Arabs or Moors, that simultaneously the Marabout 
exclaimed, ‘‘ One of the Giaour captives,” and 
Arthur cried out, La Jeunesse ! Laurence !” 

There was only just time for a start and a re- 
sponse, “ M. Arture! And is it yourself?” before a 
howl of vituperation was heard — of abuse of all the 
ancestry of the cur of an infidel slave, the father of 
tardiness — and a savage - looking man appeared,' 
brandishing a cudgel, with which he was about to 
belabor his unfortunate slave, when he was arrested 
by astonishment, and perhaps terror, at the goodly 
company of Marabouts. Hadji Eseb entered into 
conversation with him, and meanwhile Lanty broke 
forth, “ O wirrah, wirrah. Master Arthur! an’ have 
they made a haythen Moor of ye ? By the powers, 
but this is worse than all. What will mademoiselle 
say ? — she that has held up the faith of every one of 
us, like a little saint and martyr as she is ! Though, 
to be sure, ye are but a Protestant; only these folks 
don’t know the differ.” 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


195 


“If you would let me speak, Laurence,’’ said 
Arthur, “ you would hear that I am no more a Mos- 
lem than yourself, only my Frank dress might lead 
to trouble. We are come to deliver you all, with a 
ransom from the French consul. Are you all safe 
— mademoiselle and all? and how many of you?” 

“ Mademoiselle and M. I’Abbe were safe and well 
three days since,” said Lanty ; “ but that spalpeen 
there is my master and poor Yictorine’s, and will 
not let us put a foot near them.” 

“ Where are they ? How many ?” anxiously 
asked Arthur. 

“There are five of us altogether,” said Lanty; 
“praise be to Him who has saved us thus far. We 
know the touch of cold steel at our throats, as well 
as ever I knew the poor misthress’s handbell ; and 
unless our Lady, and St. Lawrence, and the rest of 
them keep the better watch on us, the rascals will 
only ransom us without our heads, so jealous and 
bloodthirsty they are. The Bey of Constantina sent 
for us once, but all we got by that was worse usage 
than the very dogs in Paris, and being dragged up 
these weary hills, where Maitre Hebert and I carried 
mademoiselle every foot of the way on our backs, 
and she begging our pardon so prettily — only she 
could not walk, the rocks had so bruised her darlin’ 
little feet.” 

“ This is their chief holy man, Lanty. If any one 
can prevail on these savages to release you it is he.” 

“And how come you to be hand and glove with 
them, Masther Arthur — you that I thought drownd- 
ed with poor madame and the little chevalier and 
the rest?” 


196 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


“The chevalier is not drowned, Laurent. He is 
safe in the consul’s house at Algiers.” 

“Now Heaven and all the saints be praised ! The 
chevalier safe and well ! ’Tis a very miracle !” 
cried Lanty, letting fall his burden, as he clasped 
his hands in ecstasy and performed a caper which, in 
spite of all his master Eyoub’s respect for the Mara- 
bouts, brought a furious yell of rage, and a tremen- 
dous blow with the cudgel, which Lanty, in his joy, 
seemed to receive as if it had been a feather. 

Hadji Eseb averted a further blow; and under- 
standing from Arthur that the poor fellow’s trans- 
port was caused by the tidings of the safety of his 
master’s son, he seemed touched, and bade that he 
and Eyoub should lead the way to the place of dur- 
ance of the chief prisoners. On the way Ibrahim 
Aga interrogated both Eyoub in vernacular Arabic 
and Lanty in French. The former was sullen, only 
speaking from his evident awe of the Marabouts, 
the latter voluble with joy and hope. 

Arthur learned that the letter he had found un- 
der the stone was the fourth that Estelle and He- 
bert had written. There had been a terrible journey 
up the mountains, when Lanty had fully thought 
Yictorine must close her sufferings in some frightful 
ravine; but, nevertheless, she had recovered health 
and strength with every day’s ascent above the close, 
narrow valley. They were guarded all the way by 
Arabs armed to the teeth to prevent a rescue by the 
Bey of Constantina. 

On their arrival at the valley, which was the 
headquarters of the tribe, the sheik of the entire 
clan had laid claim to the principal captives, and 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


^197 


had carried off the young lady and her uncle ; and 
in his dwelling she had a boarded floor to sleep on, 
and had been made much more comfortable than in 
the squalid huts below. Her original master, Ya- 
koub, had, however, come to seize her, with the force 
described by Murad. Then it was that again there 
was a threat to kill rather than resign them ; but on 
this occasion it was averted by Sheik Abderrahman’s 
son, a boy of about fourteen, who threw himself on 
his knees before mademoiselle, and prayed his father 
earnestl}^ for her life. 

“They spared her then,” said Lanty, “and, may- 
hap, worse still may come of that. Yakoub, the 
villain, ended by getting her back till they can have 
a council of their tribe, and there she is in his fllthy 
hut ; but the gossoon, Selim, as they call him, prowls 
about the place as if he were bewitched. All the 
children are, for that matter, wherever she goes. 
She makes cat’s-cradles for them, and sings to them, 
and tells them stories in her own sweet way out of 
the sacred history — such as may bring her into 
trouble one of these days. Maitre Hebert heard her 
one day telling them the story of Moses, and he 
warned her that if she went on in that fashion it 
might be the death of us all. ‘But,’ says she, 
‘suppose we made Selim, and little Zuleika, and all 
the rest of them, Christians? Suppose we brought 
all the tribe to come down and ask baptism, like as 
St. Nona did in the Lives of the Saints?’ He told 
her it was more like that they would only get her 
darling little head cut off, if no worse, but he could 
not get her to think that mattered at all at all. She 
would have a crown and a palm up in heaven, and 


198 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


VM after Iier name in the calendar on earth, bless 
her.” 

Then he went on to tell that Yakoub was furious 
at the notion of resigning his prize, and (Agamem- 
non-like) declared that if she were taken from him 
he should demand Yictorine from Eyoub. Unfort- 
unately she was recovering her good looks in the 
mountain air ; and, worse still, the spring of her 
“ blessed little Polichinelle ” was broken, though 
happily no one guessed it, and hitherto it had been 
enough to show them the box. 


CHAPTER XIII. 

CHRYSEIS AND BRISEIS. 

“The child 

Restore, I pray, her proffered ransom take, 

And in His priest, the Lord of Light revere. 

Then through the ranks assenting murmurs rang. 

The priest to reverence, and the ransom take.” 

— Homer (Derby). 

-For one moment, before emerging from the forest, 
looking through an opening in the trees, down a steep 
slope, a group of children could be seen on the grass 
in front of the huts composing the adowara, little 
brown figures in scanty garments, lying about evi- 
dently listening intently to the figure, the gleam of 
whose blond hair showed her instantly to be Estelle 
de Bourke. 

However, either the deputation had been descried, 
or Eyoub may have made some signal, for when the 
cavalcade had wound about through the remaining 
trees, and arrived among the huts, no one was to be 
seen. There* was only the irregular square of huts 
built of rough stones and thatched with reeds, with 
big stones to keep the thatch on in the storm ; a few 
goats were tethered near, and there was a rush of the 
great savage dogs, but they recognized Eyoub and 
Lanty, and were presently quieted. 

“This is the chief danger,” whispered Lanty. 


200 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


“Pray Heaven the rogues do not murder them rather 
than give them up !” 

The Sunakite, beginning to make strange contor- 
tions and mutterings in a low voice, seemed to ter- 
rify Eyoub greatly. Whether he pointed it out or 
not, or whether Eyoub was induced by his gestures 
to show it, was not clear to Arthur’s mind ; but at 
the chief abode, an assemblage of two stone hovels 
and rudely-built walls, the party halted, and made a 
loud knocking at the door, Hadji Eseb’s solemn 
tones bidding those within to open in the name of 
Allah. 

It was done, disclosing a vista of men with drawn 
scimitars. The Marabout demanded without cere- 
mony where were the prisoners. 

“ At yonder house,” he was answered by Yakoub 
himself, pointing to the farther end of the village. 

“ Dog of a liar,” burst forth the Sunakite. “ Dost 
thou think to blind the eyes of the beloved of Allah, 
who knoweth the secrets of heaven and earth, and 
hath the sigil of Suleiman Ben Daoud, wherewith to 
penetrate the secret places of the false ?” 

The, ferocious-looking guardians looked at each 
other as though under the influence of supernatural 
terror, and then Hadji Eseb spoke : “ Salaam Alei- 
kum, my children; no man need fear who listens to 
the will of Allah, and honors his messengers.” 

All made way for the dignified old man and his 
suite, and they advanced into the court, where two 
men with drawn swords were keeping guard over the 
captives, who were on their knees in a corner of the 
court. 

The sabres were sheathed, and there was a shuf- 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


201 


fling away at the advance of the Marabouts, Sheik 
Yakonb making some apology about having delayed 
to admit such guests, but excusing himself on the 
score of supposing they were emissaries sent by 
those whose authority he so defied that he had sworn 
to slaughter his prisoners rather than surrender 
them. 

Hadji Eseb replied with a quotation from the 
Koran forbidding cruelty to the helpless, and sternly 
denounced wrath on the transgressors, bidding Ya- 
koub draw off his savage body-guard. 

The man was plainly alarmed, more especially as 
the Sunakite broke out into one of his wild wails of 
denunciation, waving his hands like a prophet of 
WTath, and predicting famine, disease, pestilence, to 
these slack observers of the law o^ Mohammed. 

This completed the alarm. The body-guard fled 
away pell-mell, Yakonb after them. His women 
shut themselves into some innermost recesses, and 
the field was left to the Marabouts and the prisoners, 
who, not understanding what all this meant, were 
still kneeling in their corner. Hadji Eseb bade Ar- 
thur and the interpreter go to reassure them. 

At their advance a miserable embrowned figure, 
barefooted and half clad in a ragged liaik, roped 
round his waist, threw himself before the fair-haired 
child, crying out in imperfect Arabic, “ Spare her, 
spare her, great lord ! much is to be won by saving 
her.” 

“ We are come to save her,” said Arthur in French. 
“Maitre Hebert, do you not know me?” 

Hdbert looked up. “M. Arture ! M. Arture! 
Risen from the dead !” he cried, threw himself into 


202 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


the young man’s arms, and burst out into a vehe- 
ment sob ; but in a second he recovered bis manners 
and fell back, while Estelle looked up. 

“ M. Arture,” she repeated. “ Ah ! is it you ? 
Then, is my mamma alive and safe?” 

“ Alas ! no,” replied Arthur ; “ but your little 
brother is safe and well at Algiers, and this good 
man, the Marabout, is come to deliver you.” 

“My mamma said you would protect us, and I 
knew you would come, like Mentor, to save us,” 
said Estelle, clasping her hands with ineffable joy. 
“Oh, monsieur! I thank you next to the good God 
and the saints 1” and she began fervently kissing 
Arthur’s hand. He turned to salute the abbd, but 
was shocked to see how much more vacant the poor 
gentleman’s stare had become, and how little he 
seemed to comprehend. 

“ Ah 1” said Estelle, with her pretty, tender, moth- 
erly air, “my poor uncle has never seemed to un- 
derstand since that dreadful day when they dragged 
him and Maitre Hebert out into the wood and were 
going to kill them. And he has fever every night. 
But, oh, M. Arture, did you say my brother was 
safe ?” she..repeated, as if not able to dwell enough 
upon the glad tidings. 

“ And I hope you will soon be with him,” said 
Arthur. “ But, mademoiselle, let me present you to 
the Grand Marabout, a sort of Moslem abbd, who 
has come all this way to obtain your release.” 

He led Estelle forward, when she made a courtesy 
fit for her grandmother’s salon^ and in very fluent 
Cabeleyze dialect gave thanks for the kindness of 
coming to release her, and begged him to excuse her 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. ^ 203 

uncle, who was sick, and, as you say here, stricken 
of Allah.” 

The little French demoiselle’s grace and politeness 
were by no means lost on the Marabout, who replied 
to her graciously ; and at the sight of her reading M. 
Dessault’s letter, which the interpreter presented to 
her, one of the suite could not help exclaiming, “ Ah! 
if women such as this will be went abroad in our 
streets, there would be nothing to hope for in Para- 
dise.” 

Estelle did not seem to have suffered in health; 
indeed, in Arthur’s eyes, she seemed in these six 
weeks to have grown, and to have more color, while 
her expression had become less childish, deeper, and 
higher. Her hair did not look neglected, though 
her dress — the same dark blue which she had worn 
on the voyage — had become very ragged and soiled, 
and her shoes were broken, and tied on with strips 
of rag. 

She gave a little scream of joy when the parcel of 
clothes sent by the French consul was given to her, 
only longing to send some to Victorine before she 
retired to enjoy the comfort of clean and respectable 
clothing; and in the meantime something was at- 
tempted for the comfort of her companions, though 
it would not have been safe to put them into Frank- 
ish garments, and none had been brought. Poor 
Hebert was the very ghost of the stout and impor- 
tant maitre d- hotels and, indeed, the faithful man had 
borne the brunt of all the privations and sufferings, 
doing his utmost to shield and protect his little mis- 
tress and her helpless uncle. 

When Estelle reappeared, dressed once more like 


204 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


a little French lady (at least in the eyes of those who 
were not particular about fit), she found a little feast 
being prepared for her out of the provisions sent by 
the consuls ; but she could not sit down to it till Ar- 
thur, escorted by several of the Marabout’s suite, 
had carried a share both of the food and the garments 
to Lanty and Victorine. 

They, however, were not to be found. The whole 
adowara seemed to be deserted except by a few 
frightened women and children, and Victorine and 
her Irish swain had no doubt been driven off into the 
woods by Eyoub — no Achilles certainly, but equally 
unwilling with the great Pelides to resign Briseis as 
a substitute for Chryseis. 

It was too late to attempt anything more that 
night ; indeed, at sundown it became very cold. A 
fire was lighted in the larger room, in the centre, 
where there was a hole for the exit of the smoke. 
The Marabouts seemed to be praying or reciting the 
Koran on one side of it, for there was a continuous 
chant or hum g'oing on there; but they seemed to 
have no objection to the Christians sitting together 
on the other side conversing and exchanging accounts 
of their adventures. Maitre Hebert could not suffi- 
ciently dilate on the spirit, cheerfulness, and patience 
that mademoiselle had displayed through all. He 
only had to lament her imprudence in trying to talk 
of the Christian faith to the children, telling them 
stories of the saints, and doing what, if all the tribe 
had not been so ignorant, would have brought de- 
struction on them all. “I would not have mon- 
seigneur there know of it for worlds,” said he, glanc- 
ing at the Grand Marabout. 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


205 


‘‘ Selim loves to bear such things,” said Estelle, 
composedly. “ I have taught him to say the Pater- 
noster, and the meaning of it, and Zuleika can nearly 
say them.” 

Misericorde r cried M. Hebert. ‘‘What may 
not the child have brought on herself !” 

“ Selim will be a chief,” returned Estelle. “ He 
will make his people do as he pleases, or he would 
do so ; but now there will be no one to tell him 
about the true God and the blessed Saviour,” she 
added, sadly. 

“ Mademoiselle !” cried Hdbert in indignant anger 
— “Mademoiselle would not be ungrateful for our 
safety from these horrors.” 

“ Oh, no !” exclaimed the child. “ I am very hap- 
py to return to my poor papa, and my brothers, and 
my grandmamma. But 1 am sorry for Selim ! Per- 
haps some good mission fathers would go out to 
them like those we heard of in Arcadia ; and by and 
by, when I am grown up, I can come back with 
some sisters to teach the women to wash their chil- 
dren and not scold and fight.” 

The maitre cV hotel sighed, and was relieved when 
Estelle retired to the deserted women’s apartments 
for the night. He seemed to think her dangerous 
language might be understood and reported. 

The next morning the Marabout sent messengers, 
wdio brought back Yakoub and his people, and be- 
fore many hours a sort of council was convened in 
the court of Yakoub’s house, consisting of all the 
neighboring heads of families, brown men, whose 
eyes gleamed fiercely out from under their haiks, 
and who were armed to the teeth with sabres, dag- 


206 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


gers, and, if possible, pistols and blunderbusses of all 
the worn-out patterns in Europe — some no doubt as 
old as the Thirty Years’ War; while those who could 
not attain to these weapons had the long spears of 
their ancestors, and were no bad representatives of 
the Arnalekites of old. 

After all had solemnly taken their seats there was 
a fresh arrival of Sheik Abderrahman and his fero- 
cious-looking following. He himself was a man of 
fine bearing, with a great black beard, and a gold- 
embroidered sash stuck full of pistols and knives, 
and with poor Madame de Bourke’s best pearl neck- 
lace round his neck. His son Selim was with him, 
a slim youth, with beautiful soft eyes glancing out 
from under a haik striped with many colors, such as 
may have been the coat that marked Joseph as the 
heir. 

There were many salaams and formalities, and 
then the chief Marabout made a speech, explaining 
the purpose of his coming, diplomatically allowing 
that the Cabeleyzes were not subject to the Dey of 
Algiers, but showing that they enjoyed the advan- 
tages of the treaty with France, and that therefore 
they were bound to release the unfortunate ship- 
wrecked captives, whom they had already plundered 
of all their property. So far Estelle and Arthur, 
who were anxiously watching, crouching behind the 
wall of the deserted house court, could follow. 
Then arose yells and shouts of denial, and words too 
rapid to be followed. In a lull, Hadji Eseb might 
be heard proffering ransom, while the cries and 
shrieks so well known to accompany bargaining broke 
out. 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


207 


Ibrahim Aga, who stood by the wall, here told 
riiem that Yakoub and Eyoiib seemed not unwilling 
to consent to the redemption of the male captives, 
but that they claimed both the females. Hebert 
clinched his teeth, and bade Ibrahim interfere and 
declare that he would never be set free without his 
little lady. 

Here, however, the tumult lulled a little, and 
Abderrah man’s voice was heard declaring that he 
claimed the Daughter of the Silkworm as a wife for 
his son. 

Ibrahim then sprang to the Marabout’s side, and was 
heard representing that the young lady was of high 
and noble blood. To which Abderrahman replied, 
with the dignity of an old lion, that were she the 
daughter of the King of the Franks himself, she 
would only be a fit mate for the son of the King of 
the Mountains. A fresh roar of jangling and dis- 
puting began, during which Estelle whispered, “ Poor 
Selim, I know he would believe — he half does al- 
ready. It would be like Clotilda.” 

“ And then he would be cruelly murdered, and 
you too,” returned Arthur. 

“ We should be martyrs,” said Estelle, as she had 
so often said before; and as Hubert shuddered and 
cried, Do not speak of such things, mademoiselle, 
just as there is hope,” she answered, “ Oh, no! do 
not think I want to stay in this dreadful place — 
only if I should have to do so — I long to go to my 
brother and my poor papa. Then I can send some 
good fathers to convert them.” 

“ Ha 1” cried Arthur ; ‘‘ what now ! They are at 
one another’s throats !” 


5.^08 A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 

Yakoub and Eyoub with flashing sabres were act- 
ually flying at each other, but Marabouts were seiz- 
ing them and holding them back, and the Sunakite’s 
chant rose above all the uproar. 

Ibrahim w’as able to explain that Yakoub insisted 
that if the mistress were appropriated by Abderrah- 
man, the maid should be his compensation. Eyoub, 
wdio had been the foremost in the rescue from the 
wreck, w^as furious at the demand, and they were on 
the point of fighting when thus withheld ; while the 
Sunakite was denouncing woes on the spoiler and 
the lover of Christians, which made the blood of the 
Cabeleyzes run cold. Their flocks would be diseased, 
storms from the mountains would overwhelm them, 
their children would die, their name and race be cut 
off, if infidel girls were permitted to bewitch them 
and turn them from the faith of the prophet. He 
pointed to young Selim, and demanded whether he 
were not already spellbound by the silken daughter 
of the Giaour to join in her idolatry. 

There were howls of rage, a leaping up, a drawing 
of swords, a demand that the unbelievers should die 
at once. It was a cry the captives knew only too 
well. Arthur grasped a pistol, and loosened his 
sword, but young Selim had thrown himself at the 
Marabout’s feet, sobbing out entreaties that the 
maiden’s life might be saved, and assurances that he 
was a stanch believer ; while his father, scandalized 
at such an exhibition on behalf of any such chattel 
as a female, roughly snatched him from the ground, 
and insisted on his silence. 

The Marabouts had, at their chief’s signal, ranged 
themselves in front of the inner court, and the au- 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


209 


tliority of the Hadji had imposed silence even on 
the fanatic. He spoke again, making them under- 
stand that Frankish vengeance in case of a massacre 
could reach them even in their mountains when 
backed by the dey. And to Abderrahman he repre- 
sented that the only safety for his son, the only peace 
for his tribe, was in the surrender of these two dan- 
gerous causes of altercation. 

The King of the Mountains was convinced by the 
scene that had just taken place of the inexpedience 
of retaining the prisoners alive. And some pieces of 
gold thrust into his hand by Ibrahim may have shown 
him that much might be lost by slaughtering them. 

The Babel which next arose was of the amicable 
bargaining sort. And after another hour of sus- 
pense the interpreter came to announce that the 
mountaineers, out of tlieir great respect, not for the 
dey, but the Marabout, had agreed to accept nine 
hundred piastres as the ransom of all the five cap- 
tives, and tliat the Marabout recommended an im- 
mediate start, lest anything should rouse the ferocity 
of the tribe again. 

Estelle’s warm heart would fain have taken leave of 
the few who had been kind to her ; but this was im- 
possible, for the women were in hiding, and she could 
only leave one or two kerchiefs sent from Algiers, 
hoping Zuleika might have one of them. Ibrahim in- 
sisted on her being veiled as closely as a Moham medan 
woman as she passed out. One look between her and 
Selim might have been fatal to all ; though hers may 
have been in all childish innocence, she did not know 
how the fiery youth was writhing in his father’s in- 
dignant grasp, forcibly withheld from rushing after 
14 


210 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


one who had been a new life and revelation to 
him. 

Mayhap the passion was as fleeting as it w^as vio- 
lent, but the Marabout knew it boded danger to the 
captives to whom he had pledged his honor. He 
sent them, mounted on mules, on in front, while he 
and his company remained in the rear, watching till 
Lanty and Yictorine were driven up like cattle by 
Eyoub, to whom he paid an earnest of his special 
share of the ransom. He permitted no pause, not 
even for a greeting between Estelle and poor Victo- 
rine, nor to clothe the two unfortunates, more than by 
throwing a mantle to poor Yictorine, who had noth- 
ing but a short petticoat and a scanty, ragged, filthy 
bournouse. She shrouded herself as well as she 
could when lifted on her mule, scarce perhaps yet 
aware what had happened to her, only that Lanty was 
near, muttering benedictions and thanksgivings as he 
vibrated between her mule and that of the abbd. 

It was only at the evening halt that, in a cave on 
the mountain-side, Estelle and Yictorine could cling 
to each other in a close embrace with sobs of joy ; 
and while Estelle eagerly produced clothes from her 
little store of gifts, the ^oov femme de cham'bre wept 
for joy to feel indeed that she was free, and shed a 
fresh shower of tears of joy at the sight of a brush 
and comb. 

Lanty was purring over his foster-brother, and 
cosseting him like a cat. over a newly-recovered kit- 
ten, resolved not to see how much shaken the poor 
abba’s intellect had been, and quite sure that the rev- 
erend father would be altogether himself when he 
only had his soutane again. 


CHAPTER XIY. 


WELCOME. 

“ Well hath the Prophet-chief your bidding done.” 

— Moore, Lalla Roohh. 

Bugia was thoroughly Moorish, and subject to at- 
tacks of fanaticism. Perhaps the Grand Marabout 
did not wholly trust the Siinakite not to stir up the 
populace, for he would not take the recovered cap- 
tives to his palace, avoided the city as much as pos- 
sible, and took them down to the harbor, where, be- 
side the old Roman quay, he caused his trusty at- 
tendant, Reverdi, to hire a boat to take them out 
to the French tartan — Reverdi himself going with 
them to insure the fidelity of the boatmen. Estelle 
would have kissed the good old man’s hand in fer- 
vent thanks, but, child as she was, he shrank from 
her touch as an unholy thing; and it was enforced 
on her and Yictorine that they were by no means to 
remove their heavy mufflings till they were safe on 
board the tartan, and even out of harbor. The 
Frenchman in command of the vessel was evidently 
of the same mind, and, though enchanted to receive 
them, sent them at once below. He said his men 
had been in danger of being mobbed in the streets, 
and that there were reports abroad that the harem of 
a great Frank chief, and all his treasure, were being 
recovered from the Cabeleyzes, so that he doubted 


213 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


whether all the influence of the Grand Marabout 
might prevent their being pursued by corsairs. 

Eight glad was he to recognize the pennant of the 
Calypso outside the harbor, and he instantly ran up 
a signal flag to intimate success. A boat was imme- 
diately put ofl from the frigate, containing not only 
Lieutenant Bullock, but an ofiicer in scarlet, who had 
no sooner come on deck than he shook Arthur eagerly 
by the hand, exclaiming, 

“ ’Tis you, then ! I cannot be mistaken in poor 
Davie’s son, though you were a mere bit bairn when 
I saw you last !” 

“Archie Hope!” exclaimed Arthur, joyfully. 
“Can you tell me anything of my mother?” 

“ She was well when last I heard of her, only sore 
vexed that you should be cut ofi from her by your 
own fule deed, my lad! Ye’ve thought better of it 
now ?” 

Major Hope was here interrupted by the lieutenant, 
who brought an invitation from Captain Beresford 
to the whole French party to bestow themselves on 
board the Calypso. After ascertaining that the Mara- 
bout had taken up their cause, and that the journey 
up Mount Couco and back again could not occupy 
less than twelve or fourteen days, he had sailed for 
Minorca, where he had obtained sanction to convey 
any of the captives who might be rescued to Algiers. 
He had also seen Major Hope, who, on hearing of 
the adventures of his young kinsman, asked leave of 
absence to come in search of him, and became the 
guest of the ofiicers of the Calypso. 

Arthur found himself virtually the head of the 
party, and, after consultation with Ibrahim Aga and 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


213 


Maitre Hubert, it was agreed that there would be far 
more safety, as well as better accommodation, in the 
British ship than in the French tartan, and Arthur 
went down to communicate the proposal to Estelle, 
whom the close, little, evil-smelling cabin was al- 
ready making much paler than all her privations had 
done. 

“An English ship,” she said. “Would my papa 
approve and her little prim diplomatic air sat com- 
ically on her. 

“ Oh, yes,” said Arthur. “ He himself asked the 
captain to seek for you, mademoiselle. There is 
peace between our countries, you know.” 

“ That is good,” she said, jumping up. “ For, oh ! 
this cabin is worse than it is inside Yakoub’s hut! 
Oh, take me on deck before I am ill !” 

She was able to be her own little charming French 
and Irish self when Arthur led her on deck ; and her 
gracious thanks and pretty courtesy made them agree 
that it would have been ten thousand pities if such 
a creature could not have been redeemed from the 
savage Arabs. 

The whole six were speedily on board the Calypso, 
where Captain Beresford received the little heroine 
with politeness worthy of her own manners. He had 
given up his own cabin for her and Yictorine, pur- 
chased at Port Mahon all he thought she could need, 
and had even recollected to procure clerical garments 
for the abbe— a sight which rejoiced Lanty’s faithful 
heart, though the poor abbd was too ill all the time 
of the voyage to leave his berth. Arthur’s arrival 
was greeted by the Abyssinian with an inarticulate 
howl of delight, as the poor fellow crawled to his 


214 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


feet, and began kissing them before he could prevent 
it. Fareek had been the pet of the sailors, and well 
taken care of by the boatswain. He was handy, 
quick, and useful, and Captain Beresford thought he 
might pick up a living as an attendant in the galley ; 
but he showed that he held himself to belong abso- 
lutely to Arthur, and rendered every service to him 
that he could, picking up what was needful in the 
care of European clothes by imitation of the captain’s 
servant, and showing a dexterity that made it proba- 
ble that his cleverness had been the cause of the loss 
of a tongue that might have betrayed too much. To 
young Hope he seemed like a sacred legacy from 
poor Tam, and a perplexing one, such as he could 
hardly leave in his dumbness to take the chances of 
life among sailors. 

His own plans were likewise to be considered, and 
Major Hope concerned himself much about them. 
He was a second cousin — a near relation in Scottish 
estimation — and no distant neighbor. His family 
were Tories, though content to submit to the House 
of Hanover, and had always been on friendly terms 
with Lady Hope. 

“ I writ at once, on hearing of you, to let her know 
you were in safety,” said the major. “ And what do 
you intend the noo 

“Can I win home?” anxiously asked Arthur. 
“You know I never was attainted!” 

“ And what would ye do if you were at home ?” 

“ I should see my mother.” 

“ Small doubt of the welcome she would have for 
you, my poor laddie,” said the major; “but what 
next ?” And as Arthur hesitated, “ I misdoubt greatly 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


215 


whether Burnside would give you a helping hand if 
you came fresh from colloguing with French Jac- 
obites, though my father and all the rest of us at 
the Lynn aye told him that he might thank himself 
and his dour old dominie for your prank — you were 
but a schoolboy then — you are a man now ; and 
though your poor mother would be blithe to set eyes 
on you, she would be sairly perplexed what gate you 
had best turn thereafter. Now, see here! There’s 
talk of our being sent to dislodge the Spaniards from 
Sicily. You are a likely lad, and the colonel would 
take my word for you if you came back with me to 
Port Mahon as a volunteer; and once under King 
George’s colors, there would be pressure enough from 
all of us Hopes upon Burnside to gar him get you a 
commission, unless you win one for yourself. Then 
you could gang hame when the time was served, a 
credit and an honor to all 1” 

“ I had rather win my own way than be beholden 
to Burnside,” said Arthur, his face lighting at the 
proposal. 

“ Hout, man ! That will be as the chances of war 
may turn out. As to your kit, we’ll see to that! 
Never fear. Your mother will make it up.” 

“ Thanks, Archie, with all my heart, but I am not 
so destitute,” and he mentioned Yusuf’s legacy, which 
the major held that he was perfectly justified in ap- 
propriating; and in answer to his next question, as- 
sured him that he would be able to retain Fareek as 
his servant. 

This was enough for Arthur, who knew that the 
relief to his mother’s mind of his safety and acceptance 
as a subject would outweigh any disappointment at 


216 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


not seeing his face, when he would only be an nn- 
forgiven exile, liable to be informed against by any 
malicious neighbor. 

He borrowed materials, and had written a long 
letter to her before the Calypso put in at Algiers. 
The little swift tartan had forestalled her; and 
every one was on the watch, when Estelle, who had 
been treated like a little princess on board, was 
brought in the long-boat with all her party to the 
quay. Though it was at daybreak, not only the 
European inhabitants, but Turks, Arabs, Moors, and 
Jews thronged the wharf in welcome ; and there 
were jubilant cries as all the five captives could 
be seen seated in the boat in the light of the rising 
sun. 

M. Dessault, with Ulysse in his hand, stood fore- 
most on the quay, and the two children were instant- 
ly in each other’s embrace. Their uncle had to be 
helped out. He was more bewildered than gratified 
by the welcome. He required to be assured that the 
multitudes assembled meant him no harm, and would 
not move without Lanty ; and though he bowed low 
in return to M. Dessault’s greeting, it was like an 
automaton, and with no recognition. 

Estelle, between her brother and her friend, and 
followed by all the rest, was conducted by the French 
consul to the chapel, arranged in one of the Moorish 
rooms. There stood beside the altar his two chap- 
lains, and at once mass was commenced, while all 
threw themselves on their knees in thankfulness ; and 
at the well-known sound a ray of intelligence and 
joy began to brighten even poor Phelim’s features. 

Arthur, in overflowing joy, could not but kneel 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


217 


with the otliers ; and when the service concluded 
with the Te Deiiiii’s lofty praise, his tears dropped 
for joy and gratitude that the caj)tivity was over, the 
children safe, and himself no longer an outcast and 
exile. 

He had, however, to take leave of the children 
sooner than he wished, for the Calypso had to sail 
the next day. 

Ulysse wept bitterly, clung to him, and persisted 
that he was their secretary, and must go with them. 
Estelle, too, had tears in her eyes; but she said, half 
in earnest, “ You know. Mentor vanished when Td- 
lemaque came home ! Some day, monsieur, you will 
come to see us at Paris, and we shall know how to 
show our gratitude!” 

Both Lanty and Maitre Hebert promised to write 
to M. Arture; and in due time he received not only 
their letters, but fervent acknowledgments from the 
Comte de Bourke, who knew that to him was owing 
the life and liberty of the children. 

From Lanty Arthur further heard that the poor 
abbe had languished and died soon after reaching 
home. His faithful foster-brother was deeply dis- 
tressed, though the family had rewarded the fidelity 
of the servants by promoting Hebert to be intendant 
of the Proven§al estates, while Lanty was wedded to 
Yictorine, with a dot that enabled them to start a 
perruqided s shop, and make a home for 
his mother when little Jacques outgrew her care. 

Estelle was in due time married to a French noble- 
man, and in after-years “ General Sir Arthur Hope” 
took his son and daughter to pay her a long visit in 
her Provengal chateau, and to converse on the strange 


218 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


adventures that seemed like a dream. He found her 
a noble lady, well fulfilling the promise of her heroic 
girlhood, and still lamenting the impossibility of 
sending any mission to open the eyes of the half- 
converted Selim. 


THE END. 


CHARLOTTE M. YONGE’S WORKS.. 


There is a true adherence to nature and great dramatic skill displayed in 
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Miss Youge is scarcely to be called a novelist in the ordinary sense of the 
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have here and there a central or prominent figure as nobly conceived as 
any which our literature can show.— J’raser’s Magazine. 

Miss Yonge is the authoress of several works of fiction, in which the plot 
is made to enforce, in a plain and sober manner, the peculiar doctrines of 
what is called the High-Church school of opinion.— Afen of the Time. 

As a writer of elegant stories, inculcating a healthy morality and true 
womanly sentiments, and eminently adapted to develop and form the tastes 
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anly maturity. Miss Yonge has excelled all her rivals. —Jeaffreson's Novels 
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Miss Woolson never once follows the beaten track of the orthodox nov- 
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Its real basis is a description of the life of the Jews and Romans at the 
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We are carried through a surprising variety of scenes; we witness a sea- 
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“ Ben-Hur ” is interesting, and its characterization is fine and strong. 
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It is really Scripture history of Christ’s time clothed gracefully and 
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HARPER’S MAGAZINE FOR 1887. 

The publishers of Harper's Magazine re.spectfully invite public attention to some 
of its leading attract ons for the coming year. One of the most striking of these will 
be a new novel by Kathleen O’^Ieaka, to be beg«un in the January Number, entitled 
“ Narka, ” a story of Russian life, laying bare the abuses of Russian despotism, and at 
the same time exposing the character and aims of Russian Nihilists, and of their congen- 
ers throughout Europe. It is, moreover, a love story, developed with the same intense 
dramatic power as is shown in the treatment of its political and social environment. 
A new' novel by W. I). Howells will begin in the February Number, and run through 
the year, entitled *• April Hopes,” a story of American social life, located in Rostoii. 

Important illu.strated papers similar to those published during the past year on the 
Produce Exchange of New York, the English and American Navies, Krupp’s Gun-mak- 
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feature of the Magazine. Sir Edw'aru Reed’s articles on “The Navies of the Uonti- 
nent” will appear in the January and February Numbers, and Dr. Wheatley's artii le 
on “The New York Police Department” in the March Number. 

Charles Dudley Warner will contribute to the January and February Numbers pa. 
pers on New Orleans and the Acadian Land, illustrated by William Hamilton Gihson; 
and these will be followed by a series of Southern Sketches by Rebecca Harding Da 
vis. also illustrated by Mr. Gibson. 

Frank I). Millet will contribute two papers on “ Campaigning with the Cossacks," 
with illu.strat;ous; Dr. Henry Lansdell, a series of papers on the Natives of Siberia, 
illustrated; Ralph Meeker, tw'o papers on “ Caucasus,” illustrated by F. D. Millet; 
and Dr. Joseph Thomson, an illustrated paper de.scribing a “ Central Soudan Town. ’’ 

Dr. Richard T. Ely’s articles upon the Railway Problem have awakened general di.s 
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competent writers. Dr. Ely’s further “ Social Studies ” will be resumed in due time. 

Mr. Edwin A. Abbey will contribute three series of drawings illustrating Cowdey’s 
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Articles by E. P. Roe, completing the “ Home Acre” series, and treating of Flori- 
culture, will appear in early numbers. 

The editorial departments will continue to meet thehighest requirements of contem- 
porary culture, George William Curtis contributing the Ea^y Chair, W. D. Howeli.s 
the Study, and Charles Dudley Warner conducting the Drawer. 


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